


Good Grief

by Azia



Category: Gravity Falls, Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon)
Genre: Ableist Language, Aged-Up Character(s), Anxiety Disorder, Asphyxiation, Body Horror, M/M, Manipulation, Mental Breakdown, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-14
Updated: 2015-11-28
Packaged: 2018-04-14 14:49:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 56,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4568559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azia/pseuds/Azia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Let me see if I’m getting this right: your uncle wrote about weird stuff, a demon made you sleep-kill your sister, you gave the demon your body to bring her back to life, and then you came to the Unknown to meet me? Why? I don’t get it.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Good Grief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He hated that feeling; the feeling of grief. It left a bitter taste in his mouth that his sister's bubblegum-flavored toothpaste couldn’t wash out.

_He was surrounded by the blood and tears of his loved ones and he could only wonder why he had done all of this. He felt guilt rack his body until it felt like physical punches and the sobs were literally tearing at his insides._

_He pressed his hands against the sides of his face in an attempt to keep sane. His cheeks were reddening and soaked with his tears and he could do nothing about it. Once again he was defenseless. Twice again he was grieving._

_He hated that feeling; the feeling of grief. It left a bitter taste in his mouth that his sister's bubblegum-flavored toothpaste couldn’t wash out. He thought that he was finally growing headstrong as puberty, life, and wisdom all simultaneously dealt their cards with him, but apparently that was not so. Nothing was apparent anymore._

_Well, except for one thing: the blood around him was extremely apparent. He would never get the stench of salt and metal out of his nose. Never. Not until the end of time._

⁂

It was hot. Too hot. Hot, hot, hot. Steam was everywhere. His vision was fogging over.

_Why?_

There was a laugh. It started off as a low rumble before it broke off into an all-surrounding cackle. It reverberated off the walls, throughout his head, off of the walls of his head.

_Why?_

“Do it, do it, do it. Hurry up.” Dipper covered his ears. He was getting a headache. The laugh was screeching, was speaking, was saying words that he didn’t understand, giving orders that he didn’t want to undergo. “I bet you can’t even do it. Hurry up. Do it, do it, do it.”

_Why?_

“No!” Dipper yelled. His voice was firm. It had (thankfully) grown deeper and much more listenable over the long, tedious years. “Stop yelling at me!”

“You’re the one yelling, kid.”

The voice changed. It was quieter, much more familiar.

_Why?_

Dipper uncovered his ears and opened his eyes. He didn’t see what he was expecting. He was expecting yellow, a hat, an eye, possibly a cane. He got a blackened body instead. It looked like the person had barely survived a fire.

A charred hand pointed behind him. Dipper foolishly looked in the direction it was pointing. The walls were losing their color and dripping into a monochrome palette.

“Listen to me.”

_Why?_

⁂

Dipper awoke in his bed with the covers knocked down to his feet. He shivered and reached down to pull the blankets back over his body. Even though it was summer the nights were still cold in Oregon, especially the particular summer he was in. Actually, it had been cold all summer. Dipper had been anticipating a late summer when he arrived, but he instead got a lingering winter. Figures. He never got what he wanted anyway. That would be the day.

The blankets managed to slip out of his fingers and fall onto the floor. Case in point. He grumbled to himself and hopped out of bed. Maybe it was a sign for him to be productive for the day. Mabel had been itching to go to a new shop that had just opened downtown. Maybe he could wake her up too so that they could be the first customers there. She had mentioned that they sold pig-themed items. Of course she would want to be the first consumer there.

Dipper went over to Mabel’s bed. It was just an empty space. He sighed. She had beat him to the punch. Maybe she left without him and now he could catch up on sleep. He crawled back to his bed. Dipper wanted to drag out peaceful moments as long as possible. Peace was a rarity in his stressful little life.

⁂

He had been having reoccurring dreams. Not that he was complaining, but it did make him wonder. Dreams had meanings, so what was his about? He wasn’t about to take his dream to interpreter though, it was much too embarrassing.

The dream started off in different variations: he would be back at his parent’s home, or in the hallways of his high school, or in one of the dormitories of one of the colleges he visited, but the Mystery Shack was a popular site – especially upstairs – and then a mysterious man would walk in. The man had all blackened skin, like he had been in a fire. Dipper never managed to catch a glimpse of his face. He would be pressed against the wall or the floor before he ever got a good look.

The thoughts of who the hell the man would be left his mind while hands wrapped around the back of his neck and waist and squeezed. Not just a light squeeze too, but the kind of squeezes that he craved and his previous partners were always too afraid to give. Nice and good squeezes with blunt nails that would definitely leave a mark if it were reality.

Speaking of reality, it sure did feel like reality, even though Dipper had to constantly remind himself that it wasn’t. The fingers circling his lips and pressing onto his tongue surely felt real, the feeling of a thumb pressing and releasing his Adam’s apple certainly felt real, and the feeling of—

Yeah, that really felt real.

Dipper allowed for the mysterious man to do as he liked. They were his dreams and he heard somewhere that dreams were escapes from reality and places to live out fantasies. And if this was his fantasy, so be it. He relished in being an escapist for the moment.

⁂

Then finally, the dream changed one night. Dipper felt saddened, disappointed. He could admit that he had grown fond of the mysterious man, but he was curious to see what this new dream was about.

Everything was white and grey. He was in an empty space. Perhaps his brain had decided to explore an empty corner of his mind for one night. He was fine with this.

“Pine Tree!”

Dipper jumped. He looked around. He couldn’t find anything. Maybe it was his mind playing jokes on him. Much to the horror of his sister and the annoyance of his uncle, he had been having auditorial hallucinations lately. He could be having another one now, but in his dreams.

“Look down!” Dipper did so. He still couldn’t find anything. He moved his feet up to look underneath them. He had stepped on something. Dipper picked it up. It looked like a torn piece of paper. The paper was golden and there looked like there was a little design on it. Dipper held it closer to his face. The design was too small for him to make out what it was. It looked like a speck.

“Just kidding. Up here.” Dipper did as so. The infamous Bill Cipher was floating right above him. An unblinking eye was watching him closely and a cane was between the demon’s fingers. The cane was tapped on the air and spun around. “How’s it going? I missed you.”

“You missed me?” Dipper scoffed and crossed his arms. “Yeah right.”

“Not in the sense you’re thinking. I kind of missed having an arch enemy around here. C’mon, admit that you have too. Now that I’m here and you’re officially back, you don’t have to look over your shoulder anymore and I don’t have to scheme anymore. We can just battle it out like we did during the good old times!” Bill laughed. It sounded like a cliché witch’s cackle. Dipper wrinkled his nose at the sound. It was displeasing to the ears.

“Let’s not.”

“Oh? You’re declining my invitation to battle?” The eye sunk down. Dipper knew that Bill wasn’t sad. He questioned if Bill even had any emotions. “Oh well. I’ll just go onto Plan B.”

“Plan B?”

“No need to repeat after me. Anyways, until next time Pines. I’ll be watching, as always.”

⁂

A hand was around his neck again. Dipper let out a slow breath of ecstasy and let himself relax in the arms. He felt at peace in his usual dream for some reason. The dream was slightly different again, though. Dipper was facing the man’s front now. He had let his eyes close. He felt like he was violating the man’s privacy despite his biting curiosity.

Honestly, Dipper knew it was stupid to be so respectful to some dream guy who fucked him in every which way, everywhere, but the man felt real for some reason. The dream was just too tangible and Dipper owed the guy something for making him feel so good.

The hand suddenly stopped. Dipper arched his back against the wall behind him. He felt loose plaster chips dig into his bare back and drop by the heels of his feet. He let out another slow breath. Nothing was happening.

He let one eye open and immediately directed it away from the man. The man was no longer there. Dipper opened both of his eyes and looked around. The sensation was still the same around his neck. Once he brushed the skin of his neck, the feeling was immediately gone, both externally and internally. Dipper huffed in frustration.

He walked around. The sound of the shack’s floorboards creaking certainly felt real also. For some reason – he had discussed this with Mabel and she had agreed – dreams in the Falls always managed to feel extremely vivid and lucid. He was just suffering a side effect of the city all along maybe. Whatever. He liked it.

Dipper walked downstairs. There was no downstairs. It was grey and white again. He pinched his arm. He felt the pain of the pinch. He wasn’t sure if he was awake or asleep anymore.

Dipper dropped down to the monochrome setting as he pulled his shirt completely down over his body. Bill was back. His cane was in the center of his triangular body and swaying slightly, like a pendulum.

“Were you waiting for me?” Dipper needed a confirmation of his thoughts for some reason.

“Of course I was. I had to pry that guy away from you. It’s like you’re honey and he’s a bee. The guy just wouldn’t get off of you.” Bill winked (or blinked?) suddenly and snickered. “But you were certainly getting off on him, huh?”

“Huh?”

“Don’t play stupid. Let’s play a game instead.” Bill dropped his cane and snapped his fingers. The settings changed too quickly. Dipper got an immediate headache from the sudden brightness and loudness of his new surroundings. They were in the intersection of some city now. The colors looked off-kilter. They were too bright, especially the sun that shone down. It certainly felt like summer now.

Dipper gathered his bearings and faced Bill again. If the demon had a mouth, he would definitely be smirking. “I never agreed to play your games.”

“That’s too bad. You’re already in the arena.” Bill snapped his fingers again. The cars sped up and the traffic light overhead of them grew in size and started flashing different colors rapidly. The yellow light was much brighter than the green and red lights. “Be a dear and help your sister cross the street.”

Another snap. Mabel was beside him, but it was a much younger version of her. Maybe of when she was six or so years old. She was wearing an oversized, blue sweater with a sloppy design of a heart on the front. Kindergarten was around the time when she started experimenting with sewing and her sweater obsession really launched.

The girl was silent (unlike the Mabel that he was used to). She grabbed his hand and peered up at him. There was no emotion behind her eyes. It creeped Dipper out. It wasn't really his sister, just some type of freaky photocopy. Her hand was freezing cold despite the warm weather.

Dipper looked back at Bill. The demon was quiet also and looking at him expectedly. He gave a little shooing gesture with his cane.

The weird Mabel had confirmed that he was in a dream. He just had to cross the streets. The cars were going at a dangerous and ridiculous speed, but that was whatever too. Dipper could do anything if he put his mind to it (or his sister has always told him so).

He picked up the miniature fake Mabel and placed her on his back. Her hands automatically went up and wrapped around his neck. They were still cold and his neck was still sensitive. He shivered at the sensation. He was really getting creeped out. He had to find a way to cross the street and-or wake up as soon as possible.

Dipper looked both ways, like a good civil-minded adult would, and watched the cars. He looked for some sort of pattern, a rotation that the cars moved at. He managed to find one. The first row of cars went by the fastest, the second went slower, and the third went even slower, though they all went at a fast pace.

Dipper found an opening and took a leap for it. He managed to dodge the first car narrowly. He kept going until he made it past all of the cars. He did a little leap of triumph once he set foot on the other side of the intersection. “We did it!” He put Mabel down in order to high-five her. Her knees buckled and she immediately collapsed to the ground. He dropped down along with her in worry. He touched her wrist. There wasn’t a pulse and her skin had managed to grow even colder.

He backed away from her. It wasn’t really his sister. In the morning he was going to talk about his weird dream with Mabel and they could both be freaked out over it and laugh at the absurdity of it all and then go down to eat breakfast together.

Bill floated down in front of the limp, little body. He landed on top of it and laughed. “Wow, nice job. I was expecting for you to turn into a sack of flattened meat immediately.” A bell appeared in one of his hands. When he rang it, a melodious sound filled the air. The bell then disappeared. Of course the celebration bell was short and sweet.

Dipper didn’t bother to ask for him to get off of her. “Thanks I guess.”

“Want a reward?” Dipper felt inclined to shake his head from the way that Bill spoke. His words were so malicious and colder than the fake Mabel’s body. “You worked hard for it. You deserve a reward. I know you want one too. What’s the point of playing games without rewards?”

“A reward from you sounds more like a punishment.” Dipper looked around. There had to be some sort of exit from his dream somewhere. The cars were moving at a more reasonable pace now and the grass underneath his feet was shriving up and browning.

“I guess that’s true. Wanna see a trick then?” Dipper shook his head again. Unless the trick involved him waking up, he wasn’t interested. “Stop being so disagreeable Pine Tree. I spent a little while learning this trick and I’m sure that you’re definitely going to take interest in it.” The demon’s thin arms started growing in size. They also became more humanlike. Dipper took a step back and watched.

Bill stepped off of Mabel and placed two blackened human feet on the ground, connected by human legs. His torso stretched and distorted until it became human also. His entire body was blackened and he continued to grow until he became a familiar friend of Dipper’s.

Dipper heard himself gasp. He was genuinely surprised. He let himself to look at the face of the man now, just to find that there was no face. It was just a blank, blackened slate. He had half-expected for there to be one eye looking down at him, since it was Bill’s take on the man, but there wasn’t anything there. He felt tempted to touch the face to see if it was smooth or not.

Bill laughed again. “This body is so weird. It’s weightless. Feels like I’m in my normal body, but without the flight!” Bill flexed his fingers and wiggled his toes. “So, what do you think of my trick?”

“Great trick. Ten out of ten. Now change back.”

“Don’t tell me what to do. Let’s have fun before you go anyway. I interrupted something earlier.” Dipper felt his face heat up. He really did want to continue from earlier, but not with Bill’s consciousness inside of the man’s body. That would have made things weirder than usual.

“No.” Dipper backed away again. All of the cars were gone and the grass had managed to completely dry up and die. “How about we just skip over to the part when I leave?”

Bill clicked his tongue and shook his head. “Patience is a virtue, Pine Tree. And what you want is not on the itinerary.” Bill slowly made came over. Dipper stood still as stone just to watch. Bill obviously forgot how walking worked. He tripped over his own feet a couple of times and his arms swung around awkwardly. It took a good few minutes before he finally made it.

His hands reached out and grabbed Dipper’s shoulders. The surroundings changed again. He was back in the shack’s attic where the beginning of his dream had taken place. Dipper’s breath slowed down in anticipation. He leaned back against the wall and smirked even though he felt unsure about everything. He was sure that this was his dream, his fantasy. If he tried hard enough, he could probably just will Bill or himself away at a moment’s notice.

“If whatever you have in mind is boring, then I’m definitely leaving.”

“Ooh, you’re cooperating. I guess Plan B really _is_ in action.” Hands returned back to his neck as if there was no interruption in the first place. “Explain to me why you’re cooperating anyway. I want to hear it from your own mouth.”

“I guess you could say that I’m bored and frustrated and this is the only ti—” Dipper let out a shuddering breath. Bill had managed to find his sweet spot within seconds. “A-And this is the only time I can let everything go.” Dipper closed his eyes and lied against the wall again. He could not let everything though and relax though. Whenever Bill was involved with something, he had to stay on high alert.

“I appreciate your honesty.” Bill released his grip all too soon. “Time to wake up again. If she’s there, tell Shooting Star I said hello.”

⁂

Everywhere. Bill was literally everywhere. Dipper found that he did not mind though. His body was actually relaxed, and he actually felt good.

“Do it. Hurry up.” Dipper felt the Bill’s grip on his wrist tighten. He was forced to pick up the knife ahead of him. The handle was warm, like it had just been used seconds ago. He felt inclined to do it now, as long as Bill did not stop. He could literally feel all logical reasoning draining out of his body. “I'll keep going if you do it.” Dipper needed a confirmation for some reason.

He struck the knife down. He could feel liquid warmth seep onto his hand and in between his fingers. His spine shivered at the sensation. “Again.” He did it again. Every time Bill told him to, he struck down again. Every time he struck down, he was touched, stroked, squeezed, pleasured, and made happy.

He dropped the knife on the floor once the deed was done. “Good job. Where do you want me to touch you?”

“Neck,” Dipper breathed out. His voice felt tighter, more constricted. He didn’t feel like it. He felt like he was in the stage in-between the outside and inside of his body.

Laughter resounded in his ear. “I don’t understand where this neck fetish came from, but I like it.” Fingers pressed against his neck again. Dipper sighed in pure euphoria. His bloodied hand twitched. “You see what happens when you mix fantasy with reality?” Dipper’s empty mind didn’t process the words, just the pleasure that was practically attacking his body.

⁂

Dipper awoke with a start. His chest was heaving and his cheeks were wet. He slowly wiped his eyes. He must have been crying in his sleep. His dream had been ultra-surreal. It was scary. He looked over at Mabel. It was too dark to see her. “Mabel,” he called out. There was no answer. Anxiety nipped at his toes. Something was not sitting right with him. He leapt out of bed and turned on the light switch.

Mabel was definitely in her bed. Dipper slowly walked back over to his twin’s side of the room. His nose started to register a pungent smell coming from her direction. He slowly peeled back her covers. They were sticky.


	2. Swim Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He felt the water fill his lungs. It was cold. Panic went through him. The voice screamed again. He could feel the warmth leaving his brother’s body.

_“Ah, I see that you’ve returned. But now that you have found me, what are you going to do? Are you going to make a second attempt to murder me? If so, I will like to inform you that it will be very difficult to kill me a second time. I know that it was foolish of me to put my entire being inside of a lantern, but I’ve learned the error of my ways and corrected the issue.”_

_Silence._

_“Oh, look at who is being quiet today. I’ll have you know that I have special ways of extracting information out of my victims.”_

_More silence. A laugh._

_“My apologies, I was only joking lover boy. Isn’t it nice to have a humorous tête-à-tête every once in a while, hm?” The Beast laughed to himself again. He placed his large finger underneath Wirt’s chin and forced the young man to look at him. He certainly looked at him. His pupils were dilated to the point where his irises were hardly visible. There was just a thin brown circumference around pure darkness. They were nearly identical. How adorable. “I believe that you were in the middle of telling me something. May I ask that you repeat yourself? I had rudely interrupted you.”_

_“Let me go.”_

_The Beast laughed again. “I see that you have grown a sense of humor since your last visit to the threshold of death.”_

⁂

Wirt racked his fingers through his hair as if the gesture would be helpful. He looked down at his brother. Greg looked back at him with those wide eyes that used to annoy him to no limit a few years ago. His brother’s eyes would always have some type of positive gleam to them no matter what the situation was. He remembered how joyous and hopeful he had been to the very end during their stay in the Unknown. It annoyed Wirt because he envied Greg’s happy-go-lucky attitude. He himself could only see the negative in everything.

“Did you hear it again?” Greg’s question was harmless enough, but it still managed to make Wirt’s fingers twitch.

“Yeah, I did. I hear it all the time lately. Especially at night.”

“What did it sound like?”

“Like, uh, like singing. You know, it reminds me of the Beast, but I don’t know how that’s possible. I thought that the Woodsman destroyed the lantern before we left.” Wirt pulled his bedcovers closer to his body. It felt like it was getting cold in the room. He had asked Greg to close the window and seal it, but it still felt like some of the crisp, spring air was still leaking in. The singing grew louder with every second of silence. Wirt covered his ears. “Ugh, I don’t think I can take this anymore.” He sighed and glanced at the window again. “Maybe we should go back and make sure things are all right. M-Maybe we can find a way to stop this voice from coming back.”

“Do you think so?” Greg was getting up. Wirt had managed to convince him with minimal effort. His entire family were sporting the same the dark circles he had. Somewhere in the corner of his chest, his heart admittedly ached to see his younger brother losing sleep over him. His kid brother didn’t deserve to suffer because Wirt was going mad.

“I really do.” Wirt shrugged. He wasn’t sure about anything. Greg nodded.

“Let’s go then. Really quick though, before mom and dad get up.”

“Yeah, really quick.” Wirt threw on his step-father’s overcoat (he had stolen it the previous week – the coldness outside always made him nervous) and tossed Greg one of his warmer sweaters to wear. He moved the bubble wrap from the windowsill, pushed the insect screen out, and then helped Greg out. They replaced it before they made their escape.

They ran behind their neighborhood’s streetlights and towards Eternal Garden Cemetery. A rush of excitement that Wirt didn’t know the origin of was rushing through his body, supplying him with adrenaline every time his feet hit the pavement.

The gates were open, thankfully.

Wirt nearly tripped over a gravestone in his haste towards the wall. He pulled Greg up the wall once more. He could hear a train approaching in the distance. Their section of the tracks was beginning to alight. He pulled his brother down before the train could beat them to the punch. How nostalgic.

They walked towards the river where it all began three years prior. “Well, uh…”

“What Wirt?”

“You know the only way to get back is to, um, you know.”

“No, I don’t think I know.”

“We have to almost die basically, remember?” They both looked down at the river. The waters were calm that night. Wirt wondered if they really were going to disturb the peace just for a chance to go back to a place that they had spent so long trying to escape from.

“Oh, all right.” It was Greg’s turn to shrug. He was oddly okay with everything. He wasn’t the one with double the voices in his brain. He wasn’t the one being compelled and tempted or conducting the train. He was just a willing passenger going along for a ride that was destined to crash. Wirt envied his half-brother for more reasons than one.

Wirt reached his hand out. If his kid brother was ready, then damn right he was ready too. No, his hand was not trembling. No, he wasn’t gripping Greg’s hand with all of his might. No, the voice wasn’t rising into a crescendo.

He will admit though that, yes, he shrieked like a little girl as they jumped into the river, back into the Unknown.

Wirt automatically began to hold his breath. He rubbed his eyes with his free hand and looked around the river. It was too dark to really make anything specific out, but he could see the outline of Greg’s body. He was oddly still. Wirt squeezed his hand. Greg squeezed back.

The voice screamed suddenly. Wirt started and let out a scream of his own, except one cannot exactly scream underwater. He sucked water into his mouth during his silent gaping. He felt the water fill his lungs. It was cold. Panic went through him. The voice screamed again. He could feel the warmth leaving his brother’s body.

⁂

Wirt could not describe the texture of the Beast’s hand. It was smooth, not exactly human, but not precisely abnormal. Wirt could scream now. He was desperately trying to yell out towards Greg. He could see Greg wandering around, calling out his name and not being able to hear that his own was being called out in return.

Wirt could see Greg beginning to panic. He began to say Wirt’s name louder, more frantically. He was searching through the bushes, looking up through the trees, looking everywhere but where Wirt was being held down by the Beast.

“Why did you bring him with you?” The Beast whispered. Wirt turned his eyes up towards him. Even though he was close enough to feel the Beast and smell his scent, Wirt couldn’t make out his exact features.

“I didn’t want to go alone,” Wirt muffled against the Beast’s hand, “I wouldn’t have been able to get rid of Greg if I tried anyway.” And Wirt didn’t want it any other way now. He had accepted becoming a dynamic duo with Greg. They should have been one all along.

The Beast’s hand moved for a split second. Wirt took it as an opportunity to yell out again. Greg heard him that time. His head whipped around to the direction that his brother was being held captive.

“You asinine child,” the Beast snarled. Beast’s fingers plunge into Wirt’s mouth. Wirt tried to push him off. His struggle proved to be futile when his arms and legs were held down by roots. Bitter tree sap poured into his mouth and down his throat. Tears pricked his eyes as he began to suffocate. He was beginning to panic also.

Wirt fought until he could move up to see Greg again. Greg was running down the path, away from Wirt and the Beast. Wirt could see a branch starting to wrap around his brother’s sleeve and sprout.

⁂

Wirt didn’t look back as he ran. He had been waiting for hours for the right moment to escape. The Beast’s grip on him didn’t slip until the sun peeked over the horizon.

Wirt raced in the direction where the sky was still warm and away from where the forest was growing cold.

He vaguely remembered the Unknown. Darkness still gripped at his ankles. The trees still had faces. He certainly remembered that the trees had faces; faces that were twisted in agony with hollow eyes that revealed even more hollow insides. Everything looked like it was in the stage of premature death in the Unknown.

Wirt could hear the Beast calling his name, but his voice was growing more and more distant. The Beast could capture him again at a moment’s notice. Why wasn’t he chasing after him? Oh well. Wirt wasn’t going to take any chances.

The trees empty eyes shifted towards him as he ran past them. A tree branch flung out towards him. Wirt’s reflexes saved him. He pushed the branch out of the way and kept going. He was running out of breath. He could see a clearing a few yards away. He just had to push himself a little harder. It wasn’t time to give up yet.

“You asinine child,” a voice hissed. Wirt looked around. The trees could speak too?

“He’s just a simpleminded fool.”

“Go ahead and run away from your troubles, you pea-brained miscreant.”

“Aw, don’t talk about him like that. You know he’s soft in the head.”

“He’s escaping! Somebody catch that imbecile!”

More trees took their swings at him. Wirt blocked as many limbs as he could, but it was proving to be an overwhelming task. Soon the trees had him surrounded in all directions. Their branches were coming at him too fast for his reflexes to respond. He opted to curl himself up into the fetal position on the forest floor and protect his head. A tree managed to strike him in that one vulnerable instant.

The impact sent Wirt flying to the ground. He heard a snap. The sound was as heavy as a tree branch breaking in his ears. He touched his nose. Blood was leaking out like a faucet. Just like his nasal bones, he felt his spirit become crushed also.

He balled out the sleeve of his sweater and held it up to his nose. “Why?” His voice cracked. He didn’t understand what he had done to deserve being chased by a demon through some type of “threshold of death” and be pummeled into a pulp by ghost trees.

“You should’ve been nicer to your brother.”

Wirt forced himself back onto his feet and ran at a slower pace than before. He had been a perfectly fine brother to Greg. He saved his kid brother from turning into lantern oil for goodness sake. What more did he need to do? He would have scarified himself also if he hadn’t realized the ways of the lantern at the last second.

Wirt let out a heavy sigh as he reached the clearing. He looked behind him. The trees were shifting back into place and the shadows were retreating. The sun was shining bright on the roof of a cottage next to a rushing river. Wirt found it odd how a person would plant their house in the middle of such a dangerous place, but nonetheless he raced towards its doors.

⁂

Wirt did not expect for there to be so many people inside of the little cottage. And judging from their formal getup and the cake slices that were being passed around, he had crashed a birthday party. Not only did he crash a party, but he looked like a total mess with his bloodied nose and sleeve and dirt stained pants.

“Wirt?” Wirt searched through each of the shocked faces for the person who called him. A girl stepped forward. She had fiery locks piled high on top of her head and downy pink cheeks to match his. “Wirt, you’re back!” She practically jumped over the concession table and squeezed the life out of him. Wirt patted her back with his free hand, not sure whether or not to return the embrace.

The girl pulled away from him and gave a huff of frustration. “Wirt, what type of hug was that? Hug me like you mean it.” She seemed unfazed by the fact that he was dripping blood all over the nice wooden floor and was dangerously close to getting it on her nice pink gown.

“Uh, sorry?”

“Aw shoot. You don’t recognize me?” He shook his head. The partygoers around them slowly resumed back to normal. There were mostly children in attendance and they had grown bored of the bloodied stranger at their door rather quickly and returned to their cake. A few adults continued to stare though, but they looked more at ease to see that the girl knew him. “It’s Beatrice! You seriously don’t remember me? I was a bluebird, but now I’m not anymore. I helped you and your brother get back home. Please don’t tell me you forgot all about that.”

Wirt used his other sleeve to hold his nose down. “Beatrice, you look great as a human!” He moved to hug her again, but he took a step back. “Mind if I hug you later? I was attacked by the forest just a second ago and I am pretty sure that my nose is fractured or something.”

Beatrice nodded and looked at his face like she was had noticed it for the first time. “Yeah, of course. My mom keeps a kit in the back. Come on.” She grabbed his sleeve and dragged him away from the party.

“Sorry about crashing the party.”

“It’s my little brother’s birthday party. You showing up was the most exciting thing that happened all day.” She pushed him inside of the kitchen. It was an extremely old-timey room. The wallpaper was very much of a vintage variety. Wirt guessed that it from the late nineteenth century – Victorian era. Beatrice took him towards the sink and pulled down a basin from the wall. As hot water poured into it, she pulled Wirt and herself a seat.

“So, was the party, uh, fun?”

She snorted. “I see that you’re still as awkward as ever.” Wirt frowned. It was true. She pulled down some medical paraphernalia, turned off the water and brought the basin over, and sat down in front of him. “So, the forest attacked you. Did you chop down a tree or something?”

“No. All the trees were screaming at me and then one of them managed to hit me right in the nose and knocked me over.” Beatrice dropped the rag that she was using to soak up the water.

“The trees were screaming? The trees stopped speaking right after the Bea—I mean, _You-Know-Who_ died.”

“Well, You-Know-Who isn’t exactly dead.” She wiped the blood off of his face with the rag. “He was the first thing I saw when I came here. He told me that the lantern’s gone and it’s going to be harder to kill him a second time, but he never told me how he came back.”

Beatrice rewetted the cloth. “Tilt your head back,” she murmured. She sighed as she continued to clean him. “What brought you back here anyway?”

“Him. I kept hearing his voice in my head, so Greg and I came back to see if we could put a stop to it.”

Beatrice’s eyes widened. “I thought you came here alone. Where’s Greg?”

“I have no clue. I thought that I was running in the direction he went, but I doubt that he would’ve went past this clearing when there’s a house right here. Did he stop here last night by any chance?” Beatrice shook her head. Wirt felt crushed all over again. “I can’t believe that we got separated.”

“We’ll find him, don’t worry about it. I mean, there’s a town just a few miles away from here. He might’ve gone there.”

“I hope so.” She took some gauze out of her supplies. When she moved into the sunlight, Wirt could see that Beatrice had a numerous freckles across her arms. There were also some that stretched across her nose and dotted her cheeks. He hadn’t expected for her to be so freckle-y. He hadn’t really expected for her to look any kind of way really. He was so used to seeing her in bird form. The bright hair had certainly been a surprise. “It’s not going to be easy though.”

She folded the gauze around her hands. “This is all too weird. He’s back, you’re back, your brother’s missing.” She inserted the gauze inside of his nose slowly. He winced and bit his lip. It needed to be done to prevent him from bleeding to death. He had to suck up the pain for just a moment. “This is all too much to handle in two minutes.” She shook her head and smirked. “You really know how to make a comeback, huh Wirt? You’re no different from last time. Still reciting poetry and staring at wallpaper?”

“Homesick for steadfast honey, ah the bee flies not. That brews that rare variety.” Beatrice shoved gauze into his other nostril. “Emily Dickinson,” he hissed out. At least the painful part was over with.

“You’re all grown up now though. Did you become a poet or interior decorator?”

“Nope. Do you know much poets get paid?” She shook her head. “Not a lot. Wait, stop, you’re distracting me. We’re supposed to be figuring out why the Forest Monster came back.”

“’The Forest Monster?’ Nice one.”

“Well, we’re not allowed to say his name for some reason.”

“Yeah, the Woodsman would go bonkers whenever someone said his name.”

“Speaking of which, where is the Woodsman? Maybe he knows why You-Know-Who came back.”

Beatrice took out a bandage and placed it over Wirt’s nose. “Um, the last I saw him he was with his daughter. They were watering the plants outside of their house. That was about a week ago though. I haven’t really seen him or his daughter around since then now that I think about it.”

“Could you take me to his house?”

“Yeah, all right. Do you want to change first? I don’t think he would appreciate you getting blood all over his house.”

“No, let’s go now. The sooner, the better.”

⁂

The Woodsman’s home was off towards the outskirts of town. There was a nice garden and a wishing well outside of a cottage that looked similar to Beatrice’s. While walking through town, they asked various people if they had seen Greg. Everyone said that they hadn’t.

“You know what I miss? Your gnome hat,” Beatrice said as they walked up the stairs leading to the Woodsman’s home. “It added character to you, you know. You’re really bland to look at without it.”

“Gee, thanks, but it was a pilgrim hat.” Wirt knocked on the door. There was no answer. He didn’t even hear any footsteps approach the door. Matter of fact, the house was dead silent. He knocked one more time for good measure before he went over to the window on the side. The window was too dirty to really see through and it was dark inside of the house.

There was an ominous pressure pushing down on Wirt. It gave him goosebumps. He didn’t want to immediately draw the conclusion that something sinister was going on so soon though.

“Let’s just go through the window,” Beatrice suggested. Wirt nodded and began to pry it open. It was unlocked but proved difficult to move. Beatrice had to help him. They helped each other go through the window and Beatrice opened the curtain to let the sun light the room.

They found the reason to why their knocks had gone unanswered. The Woodsman was hanging from the ceiling in the entrance room. His skin was a sickly pale hue. They had missed him by a long shot. His hat was on the floor by his feet along with one of his boots. His body was still swaying slightly.

Beatrice quickly turned away. “Where’s his daughter?” Wirt couldn’t get his eyes off of the Woodsman. It was ultra-surreal. He didn’t understand it.

All of the light from the room drained suddenly. Wirt looked behind him. The Beast was looking inside of the window. His eyes were fifty shades of red. “I see that you have found my remains.” The Beast’s voice was earthshattering.

Wirt turned to run in the direction that Beatrice had scampered off to, but the Beast reached in through the window and grabbed him by the hem of his bloodied sweater. “I am going to ensure that you aren’t going to be able to run away this time.” The Beast clicked his tongue. “No, no. Look at yourself. Simply unacceptable. You see, none of this would have happened if you would’ve just stayed with me instead of being willfully disobedient. Now your clothes are soiled, your nose is injured, and your eyes are swollen.” The Beast pulled himself inside of the house while still keeping a tight grip on Wirt.

The demon hummed a tune as he began to unclothe the Woodsman’s swinging body with only one hand. After he had the Woodsman’s coat and other boot removed, he turned back to Wirt. He pulled the young man’s bloodied sweater up and over his head. “You know, I miss your old appearance in a peculiar way. It gave you character.” He pulled the Woodsman’s coat on Wirt and buttoned each button for him. Wirt unconsciously held his breath. The Beast was too close for comfort.

His shoes were then removed and the Woodsman’s boots were replaced on his feet. The boots hugged his feet. He never would have thought that the Woodsman would have smaller feet than him. Lastly, the Beast reached down and put the Woodsman’s hat on Wirt’s head. “It’s not your old hat, but this will have to do.” Wirt had never worn so many dark colors at once before. “My, oh my, you look much, much better now. Don’t you think the same?” Wirt nodded. He didn’t know what the Beast wanted, but it would be wise not to upset him.

Something flashed through the hallway in Wirt’s peripheral vision. He let out a quiet sigh when he saw that it was Beatrice hiding in the hallway, looking in confusion and shock at the scene before her. “I could arrange for you to have different clothing if you prefer, but this will have to do for now.”

“That’s all right,” Wirt quietly said. He looked at Beatrice and glanced at the window. She shook her head. Wirt wondered what her problem was. The Beast’s back was to her and all of his attention was devoted towards Wirt. She could slip out of the house, return back to her family, and continue on with her life as if nothing too out of the ordinary had ever happened.

“Such a humble young man. That does not hide your mindlessness though.” The Beast tightened his grip on his shoulder. “Come with me. There’s no use for this empty house anymore.” Wirt gave one last longing look towards Beatrice as he was led out of the house. She only stared back. He could tell that she had a plan in mind. He wished that she could telepathically tell him what it was. He hated being left out.

New dark clouds were casting a large shadow over the town. It made Wirt nervous. Some of the denizens were looking up at the overcast sky in bewilderment and others were gathering their things and heading into their houses. Wirt wondered how the Woodsman had been left dead in his home for assumedly a week or so without anyone checking up on him. Was he an unpopular townsperson? Did people just simply not care for one another here?

The Beast pulled Wirt back when he reached the bottom step of the Woodsman’s home. “Look at that.”

“At what?” Wirt was waiting for the moment that the Beast grew distracted again and loosened his grip. He knew another moment like that was going to be harder to find now that he had already escaped once. He was growing unhopeful that he could get away, but he still had to try.

The Beast pushed him towards the Woodsman and his daughter’s garden. Most of the plants were still thriving. There were even some sprouts. “That.”

“I-I don’t get what I’m supposed to look at.”

“The milkweed, look at the milkweed. Look at its downy, white fibers. They only grow where there is a disturbance.” Wirt had once written a poem about milkweeds a few years back. It was a forced submission by his English teacher for the citywide poetry contest. He had referred to himself as a milkweed. He felt like he was constantly rooted in disturbances (such as now) and was so weak that one gust of wind could blow him away. He had gotten fourth place and a red ribbon.

“That’s cool, I guess,” Wirt muttered. The Beast grunted and pushed him towards the town.

It was an understatement to say that the townspeople’s reactions were bad.

“IT’S THE BEAST!”

“KILL HIM!”

Everyone was screaming and running all of a sudden. The Beast pulled Wirt closer to him and continued on as if there were wasn’t an angry mob chasing after them with various weapons. The yelling was as earthshattering as the Beast’s voice. The noise was almost suffocating. Wirt reached up to cover his ears, but his hands were smacked away.

“No, I want you to listen. This is what happens every time I show even my shadow in a town.”

Wirt could hear the rioters gaining up on them. He was growing anxious. The Beast was still unconcerned with everything. He was still moseying along as if they were frolicking in the middle of a peaceful meadow with butterflies and milkweeds all around them.

A battle cry sounded right in Wirt’s ear. He saw a flash of fire move in between him and the Beast. A man had thrown his torch directly at the Beast’s back. Wirt held his breath. This was his moment.

A peculiar thing happened though that stopped Wirt’s moment from coming. The man vanished into thin air exactly when the first flame touched the Beast’s back. A shadowy figure appeared in the man’s place for just a split second before he reappeared. The flames leapt off of the Beast and onto the man.

The flaming man gave a scream of pure agony and ran back to the crowd. More people caught on fire as he frantically ran around and tried to put himself out. The yells of anger turned into screams of pain and Wirt watched the mob mentality’s tragic transition with widening eyes. The Beast had managed to turn a town into complete chaos within seconds. It was unbelievable.

Wirt could see two people running out of the ball of chaos. He wanted to cry in relief when he recognized Beatrice leading another girl away from the town. He just wanted for them to be safe. If anything, he was the one who deserved to be up in smoke with everyone else.

⁂

Wirt tried to block out the sounds of destruction once he and the Beast reentered the forest, but it proved difficult. All he could hear were the sounds of people screaming in pain and he even caught the sound of a baby’s cries. He winced to himself as he turned back to the Beast.

The Beast was unfazed. The towering figure’s eyes flashed brightly at Wirt. The temperature felt like it had dropped sharply. “Why would you run away from me? You know that we fit together well. We make a great twosome together. Do you know the possibilities? We can great a paradisiacal universe, you and I, if we work hard enough.”

Wirt didn’t know how to respond. His nose was hurting and he couldn’t even breathe through it anymore due to all the gauze that had been shoved into his nostrils. He was feeling extremely homesick too. And he missed his brother like he had never missed him before.

Wirt decided to take the honest route after the Beast’s eyes reached an unnatural hue of whiteness. “I just want to go home.”

“If you really wanted to be home, then you would have stayed home. But, no, you are here with me in the Unknown. Thus, you do not want to be home. You want to be here.” The Beast moved closer to him. Wirt held his ground. Oh yes, trepidation was flowing through his body faster than his blood was and his eyes were beginning to burn from the brightness of the Beast’s. But he was a grown man now. He was no longer a shriveling, selfish little boy that he was once. (At least, he convinced himself so.) “You subconsciously have always desired to return back here, back to me.”

“No. The only thing that’s been on my subconscious is the sound of your voice. I came back to see if I could make it stop.”

“That is just another fact to prove my theory. You have always yearned for me ever since we parted from one another.” The Beast placed his other hand on Wirt’s thin shoulder. Wirt tried to shake him off.

“No, why would I want to come back to you when you tried to kill me and my brother?”

“You enjoy saying that word, don’t you? ‘No.’ But anyways, I am not wholly responsible. I do not influence the feeling of hopelessness on anyone. They do it to themselves. You were not manipulated by me. I am only here to collect what has already been lost.” Wirt didn’t like it, but he could feel himself being persuaded. The fighting spirit that had launched itself in him was still kicking though. He continued to struggle underneath the Beast’s iron grip.

“What about the Woodsman, huh? Why is he dead? You had something to do with him. He wouldn’t just hang himself for no reason.”

“Why must you think that whenever something goes wrong that it’s my fault? Is it because I am a big, bad monster from the dark depths of the forest? That is very incriminating.”

Wirt felt the fighting spirit flee him. He slowly allowed himself to relax. The Beast relaxed also. Good. “Fine then, you had nothing to do with it. But you know what happened to the Woodsman.”

“Actually, I don’t know. I haven’t exactly kept in touch with the Woodsman anymore.” The Beast sighed. Wirt could feel his hands beginning to move down from his shoulders to his arms. “Now that you have controlled yourself, will you attempt to foolishly run away again when I release you?”

“That would be the logical thing to do.” Wirt already set his legs to run away.

“Why? Because I am a demon and you are a human, so we must be enemies with one another? That’s all the more reason why a partnership between the two of us could work out to a great advantage. Think about it.” Wirt didn’t want to. Milkweeds grew were there was a disturbance.


	3. Mercy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bill slowly made his way to the casket. “So, a quick verse: ‘And shall cast them into a furnace of fire: there shall be a weeping and a moaning and a gnashing of teeth,’ Matthew chapter thirteen, verse forty-two. Well, it isn’t word for word. I can’t quote the Bible verbatim. If I touch a holy book, I get a fourth degree burn!” Bill laughed again.

Dipper wanted to vomit. He almost did. He could feel bile rising up in his throat, but he forced it back down.

Blood wasn’t literally everywhere, per se, but it certainly looked like it. Redness had dripped onto the floor (hopefully not through the creaks of wood), the pink bed sheets were completely stained, the downy pillow at the head of the bed was torn apart, feathers had flown everywhere. Dipper had once teased his sister for choosing children’s bedding – _“The Care Bear blankets were the only ones left in the store!”_ – and the scene in front of him looked like the perfect nightmare for any child.

Mabel was the centerpiece of the horror, mutilated beyond recognition. The stench was overwhelming. It was making Dipper’s head spin. He didn’t understand. His mind was drawing a complete blank. He absentmindedly reached out and touched Mabel’s arm where there was no blood, just to make sure that he wasn’t dreaming. He immediately drew his hand back. She was still warm, but she was certainly gone.

Dipper jerked back again when smoke started to seep from behind his feet. He turned around, facing away from Mabel. Bill had appeared, cane in hand, and stared down at Mabel – or, what was left of her. “My, my, my. What a tragedy. Well, good news is that I was hired to direct the funeral. Bad news, I can’t exactly show up looking like this.” Bill waved his hand in the air. Dipper wanted to vomit again.

“Get out Bill, now. This is not the time for your sick jokes.” Dipper took a step back. He winced when he felt his back of his legs touch the bed. “And why are you even here? I didn’t summon you.”

“Uh, you did actually. Last night. You don’t remember?” Bill shrugged. “Oh well. Anyways, I got some even better news for you: I will absolutely, positively resurrect your sister if we go to her funeral together.”

“What?” Dipper didn’t want to look back at Mabel, but he could still feel her presence somehow. Perhaps her spirit was in the room, watching them, maybe begging for him to not trust Bill, to just leave her for dead. Everything was too unreal. Dipper looked down at himself. He had dried blood on his shirtfront and on his fingertips. He hadn’t even noticed it before. “Wait, wait, first of all, you’re gonna tell me what happened.”

“No, I’m not. I am going to Shooting Star’s funeral and then I will revive her there.” Dipper had sworn that he was done making deals with the devil.

“What’s the catch?”

“Catch?” Bill laughed. The sound reverberated off of the walls of the attic. A shiver of déjà vu went up Dipper’s spine. “Can’t I do something out of the goodness of my heart for a good old friend of mine?”

“You don’t have a heart and we are not friends.” Dipper snuck a quick glance at his sister. He would pay any price to bring her back, but was working with Bill worth it? “Just tell me what you want out of this deal.”

“Who said anything about deals, kid? I said that I am directing your sister’s funeral and that I would bring her back. All you have to do is lend me your body.” There was the catch. “Didn’t I say that I can’t show up looking like this? Wow, I feel like a broken record.”

“Twenty-four hours, I don’t care what you do. Stab me again and throw me down the stairs, whatever. You can have my body for only twenty-four hours only if you bring Mabel back. And she can’t be a zombie or anything undead. I want my sister to be alive and fully functioning by the end of the day. No twists, no tricks. Got it?”

“Twenty-four hours,” Bill repeated. He held his hand out. Dipper closed his eyes as he shook the demon’s hand, as blue flame surrounded them, authenticating their agreement. If Mabel was watching them, she was probably crying now. “The next 1,440 minutes are going to be the most fun that you’ll ever have in your entire life!”

A chill went through Dipper’s body and then it was over. He had relinquished his body yet again to Bill. He stared down at himself glumly. A monotone hue seeped from underneath Bill’s feet and throughout the attic. Mabel’s body began to rise up into the air. The bloodied bedcovers were thrown on the floor along with an unstained stuffed animal. Dipper watched in stunned silence as she floated beside “Dipper” and they both walked downstairs.

“Mabel?” Dipper cautiously called out. He was the only apparition in the room. He followed after Bill.

⁂

Dipper didn’t understand Bill’s obsession with wearing the priest-esque outfit, but he had no room to argue. The entire situation was unbelievable. How did people not notice that there was something off about “Dipper”? He was wearing a cassock and clerical collar, and for goodness stakes, the sclerae of his eyes were tinted yellow. And if Bill laughed one more time, Dipper swore that he was going to have a nervous breakdown.

Dipper didn’t understand how quickly the funeral had been arranged either. Everyone had gathered at the little chapel towards the outskirts of the Falls at a moment’s notice. Grunkle Stan was sitting in the front pew alone, holding his fez in hand and blankly looking forward. He suddenly stood up and walked out of the church. Everyone stared at him as he suddenly walked down the aisle. Dipper couldn’t do anything about it. It was probably better if Stan wasn’t there anyway.

Dipper had no clue how to brace himself for whatever was about to happen.

Bill actually produced a gavel from the sleeves of his robes and banged it against the podium. Everyone seized speaking and looked forward. “Welcome to the funeral of Shooting Star Pines. I would like for you all to notice the emphasis on the world ‘funeral,’ because that’s all this is: a funeral. There will be no burial.” The attendees began to murmur, but Bill silenced them with the gavel again. “No one talks when I’m speaking, got that?” A wicked smile spread across “Dipper’s” face. Dipper gulped.

Bill slowly made his way to the casket. “So, a quick verse: ‘And shall cast them into a furnace of fire: there shall be a weeping and a moaning and a gnashing of teeth,’ Matthew chapter thirteen, verse forty-two. Well, it isn’t word for word. I can’t quote the Bible verbatim. If I touch a holy book, I get a fourth degree burn!” Bill laughed again. Perhaps the audience was receiving it has nervous laughter and “Dipper” trying to lighten the mood by telling bad jokes. Bill suddenly took the cover off of the casket and threw it down the altar. “I know that we just started, but how am I doing?”

Dipper looked back at everyone in the church. There were horrified expressions everywhere. Dipper spotted Wendy in the back. She looked more confused than anything. Dipper turned back to the front and bit his lip. All he could do was hope that Bill’s antics weren’t going to be too bad.

Bill then sat down on the edge of the coffin and crossed his legs. He laughed again. He looked like he was having a grand old time. “Anyways, in all honesty, I sort of like Shooting Star, or Mabel, whatever you guys call her. She’s a pretty decent human being. Occasionally annoying, but exceptionally bearable.” Bill hopped down and reached inside of the casket. What was this, a test of humiliation? After the funeral was Bill going to release _How to Ruin Dipper Pines’ Life In Six Easy Steps: Expert's Edition_? Dipper was practically chewing a hole into his lip. What was Bill doing? “Look at her now!” Bill held Mabel’s corpse up for all to see. Her head hung down against Bill’s shoulder. Dipper heard gasps and someone start to retch. “Oh, don’t get sick now, the party has just started.”

“Bill,” Dipper whispered. Bill locked eyes with Dipper.

“Oh, hey, Pine Tree!” Bill leaned Mabel towards him. Her head dangled in the opposite direction. “Care to join us?”

“Bill, stop,” Dipper hissed. There were at least five people vomiting in the back, two had fainted, and another few fled in terror.

“No, no. The twenty-four hours isn’t up yet, unless you want to cut everything short now?” Bill tossed Mabel back in the casket as if she was just a doll being put to bed and stood on top of the podium. “Do you want me to bring your sister back now?”

“Yes, that was part of the deal.”

“I never explicitly used the word ‘deal,’ kid. You must got me confused with someone else.” Bill laughed again. “You know what, I’ll just admit it now: you’re fulfilling a newfound dream of mine. Always wanted to perform a miracle in front of a live audience.” Bill hopped down from the podium and walked back to Mabel. Blue and white puffs of smoke billowed out of the casket. Dipper hovered over it. Mabel’s eyes were still closed, but her chest was rising up and down as air flowed into her body. Dipper nearly cried out, but he had to control himself in front of Bill.

“Now it’s time for the real deal!” The lights burned out. Sparks flew everywhere. People were screaming. It was a wonder that there were still people inside of the building. “So who is getting their body back? Will it be Mabel ‘Exceptionally Bearable’ Pines or Dipper ‘Nightmare Fetishist’ Pines?” The corners of Bill’s grin rolled up to his cheeks. There was a light streaming from a single window at the head of the church and it was gleaming down on him. The early morning sun beamed a halo of light around him. It reminded Dipper that he handed the power to the wrong one once more.

“I have to choose,” Dipper whispered. He looked back down at his sister. Through the weak light he could see that her eyelids were beginning to flutter. She was in between the stages of life and death. “Why can’t it be both of us?” Dipper knew that he was beating a dead horse when he asked the question.

“You see, I could’ve just taken your sister’s body after you killed her, but I decided to hold off. I don’t want to be Shooting Star, I want to be you. She doesn’t have the knowledge that you have. She hasn’t seen the things that you’ve seen.” Bill laughed again. The podium fell over. “If I return your body back, then it’s worse-case scenario for you, kid. Your sister’s dead, your family knows that you killed her, and that incubus is still infesting your mind and will eventually find a way out.” Bill slowly moved away from the light and leaned back over Mabel’s coffin. “But if I restore Mabel and keep your body, then your sister’s alive, I’ll arrange it so no one will remember this little fiasco of a funeral, and everything will be back to normal.”

Dipper looked back down at his sister again. He could always figure out a loophole later. He was known for being witty. He could figure everything out. No sweat. He wiped his eyes. He wasn’t supposed to be crying. Everything will be fine. He was going to figure it out.

“I’ll be back,” Dipper murmured. He reached out his hand again. He felt a chilled sensation go through his neck instead. He looked down to see that Bill’s hands were aflame. Dipper was catching on fire. He screamed and tried to put it out, but the blue licks of flame had taken over his entire being.

“I don’t think so.” Bill’s laughter was the last thing Dipper heard. “Pleasure doing business with you, Pine Tree.”

⁂

Dipper stood in the middle of Eternal Garden Cemetery. Bill had gone through the courtesy of giving him an entire gravestone to symbolize the death of the old Dipper and the birth of a new one. Dipper could walk now. He could feel the rough edges of the stone now. He could feel the pitter patter of the first drops of rain now. He could feel his heart numbing over now.

“He spelled my name wrong,” Dipper muttered. He picked up the chisel and hammer that he had brought with him and got to work. Rain dripped over his head as he worked the misspelling away until the gravestone was a blank space.

Dipper then threw the instruments on the ground. It was beyond frustrating to be able to interact with non-human objects only. He had given up hope trying to send messages for Mabel and Stan to stop packing their bags with “Dipper” and taking a trip back to Piedmont. They were well on their way now.

Dipper walked towards the wall of the cemetery, towards the forest. All he had were a few ripped pages from the journals and the clothes on his back, but he’d been damned if he wasn’t ready to start a war when Bill came back to Oregon.


	4. Kill Kill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wirt hiccupped a sob back. “I-I shouldn’t have done that. I shouldn’t have played hero. I’m not a hero. I’m so stupid. I-I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry…”

The Beast held Wirt’s hand in a death grip. “Stay here. I have urgent business to take care of.” Wirt felt a whisper of touches ghost across his arm before the demon disappeared. Wirt felt goosebumps appear on his arms despite the cozy warmth that the also late Woodsman’s jacket was providing him.

So, Wirt stood by the late Adelaide’s home, waiting anxiously. The Beast’s threat still hung heavy in the air even after the demon was gone: “If you attempt to run away again, I will have all of the trees and animals of the forest do worse damage to you than just a measly broken nose.”

Wirt sighed and kicked a rock before entering Adelaide’s home. It had virtually been left alone all of this time. At least Adelaide’s body had seemingly vanished from existence instead of being left to swing back and forth, back and forth like the Woodsman’s had. Wirt felt even more chills go down his spine at the thought of the Woodsman. He tightened the jacket around himself.

Wirt rummaged around the home to keep himself busy. He found no food or water. He figured that there wouldn’t be any. He spotted a small vanity in the corner of the room. Wirt inhaled deeply and walked over to the mirror. He needed to assess the damage eventually.

Wirt was admittedly frightened at the first sight of his reflection (and he shrieked again). He almost didn’t recognize himself. He wondered how Beatrice had managed to be so calm when she had taken care of Wirt. She had a lot of little brothers, so she was probably used to kissing knee bruises and placing smaller bandages on button noses. The worst that Wirt had seen of Greg were a few bumps and bruises here and there (the turning into an edelwood tree did not count, and Wirt did not want to think about it).

Wirt looked like a bruised caricature of the Woodsman. The tips of his gauze were beginning to stain red. He needed to change it soon. His eyes had even darker circles around them. Hopefully they would go away soon. If he returned – no, _when_ he returned home – he couldn’t look too bad. His parents would worry. Greg would be very upset too.

As Wirt silently observed his hapless appearance, he convinced himself that Greg had made it back home. He was probably wrapped up in the sweater that Wirt had given him before they had left, eating a bowl of tomato or cream of mushroom soup (whatever their mother’s favorite soup of the week was), and seated between his mother and step-father and telling them not to cry because Wirt would be coming back soon. Greg was always hopeful. But Wirt felt like there would be a crack in his voice this time, a slight shatter in his demeanor. Everyone probably thinks that Wirt had finally gone insane and ran away. Wirt’s “disappearance” was going to break his kid brother if it went on for too long.

Wirt needed to go back home as soon as possible.

Wirt huffed and walked away from the mirror. The door suddenly slammed open. Wirt feared that the Beast had returned. The demon’s instructions weren’t overly specific. What if he had wanted for Wirt to stay outside of the house for him, and now that he had willfully disobeyed, was he was going to be sent out for another beating by the trees?

“Wirt, are you all right?!” Wirt let out a sigh of relief. He missed the sound of Beatrice’s voice.

Wirt raced over to Beatrice and the Woodsman’s daughter and closed the door. He moved the thick tapestry away from a nearby window and looked out. He saw no signs of the Beast coming back, but they had to make their talk quick.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine, I’m fine. Are you two okay?” Both of the girls nodded. “Do you guys know what happened to the Woodsman?”

The Woodsman’s daughter wilted slightly. “When my father had defeated the Beast at first, nothing strange had happened at first. Everything was completely normal. We both continued on with our lives as if nothing had happened. But I noticed that my father was always looking at the lantern with a longing look in his eye. I asked him if he was missing his old life of being the lantern bearer, but he had denied me. He said that it came to his mind from time to time, but he is glad that he had stopped.” She nervously glanced out of the window also. If the door was closed and all the windows were completely covered, then the house would have been warm and pitch black, just the way Adelaide liked it. “And then around a fortnight ago, out of pure curiosity, he fixed up the lantern and lit it again. After that things started to become strange.”

Beatrice patted the girl’s shoulder. “It’s all right. I’ll go from here. Anyway, she told me that the Woodsman started acting weirder than usual after he lit up the lantern again. She said that he would go outside at night and she could see some type of shadowy figure come out with him.” Wirt’s mind was drawn back to the town that the Beast had singlehandedly destroyed. When the townsman had tried to burn him, a shadowy figure had briefly appeared before he had caught on fire himself. Weird. “She said that this ghost thing prevented the Woodsman from sleeping and eating. And then when he got too weak to fight it, it forced him to hang himself.”

“Oh,” Wirt stupidly said. A heavy silence wrapped over the home like one of Adelaide’s thick blankets. “I’m sorry,” Wirt said to the Woodsman’s daughter. She only shook her head and looked down at the dark floorboards.

“I have an idea,” Beatrice continued. “I was thinking that the Beast doesn’t exactly just die when his lantern is blown out.” She tapped the Woodman’s daughter’s shoulder. They both presented what they were hiding behind their backs: the lantern and the Woodsman’s axe. The lantern was burning furiously. Wirt had never seen a blue flame so bright before. “Maybe he ju—”

A cool darkness seeped through the home. Wirt spotted an eye spying through the slight window opening at them. The eye flashed red and yellow. “Children, won’t you come out?” They all held their breaths and stood still. Wirt blamed himself. He had been facing the window directly. He should have been a better lookout. “No? Well, I guess I will just come in.”

The door swung open again and they were all forced out of the home. Wirt saw the Woodsman’s daughter drop the lantern by the doorway while she was being pulled out. Beatrice had held on tight to the axe.

The Beast towered above them. His eyes were still presenting a psychedelic array of angry colors. Wirt could have sworn that he saw the demon twitch and distort, as if he was television static. The Beast released all of them, but Wirt knew that this was not the opportunity to run away. Forest was all around him and Adelaide’s house was nearby. There had always been something inauspicious about the house.

Beatrice pushed the Woodsman’s daughter behind her and threateningly held the axe up towards the Beast. The demon was unconcerned though. His hands were on his hips and he was shaking his head, antlers swaying side to side and knocking orange and red and yellow leaves everywhere. “This reunion between the three of you is quite endearing really, but I’m afraid that I am going to have to cut it short. Wirt,” the Beast held his dark hand out towards Wirt, “come with me. We have work to do.”

Wirt cleared his throat. He didn’t need for his voice to crack at any more important moments. “No! Why are you so obsessed with me? There’s nothing special about me and I can’t take over the world like you want me to even if I tried.” Self-deprecation had always been a defense mechanism when it came to Wirt.

“There is more to you than you think, boy. We can achieve your true potential together.”

“No. I don’t want to ever do anything with you.”

The Beast seemed to shrug. “Fine. I can negotiate. I was a consultant in a past life.” In the blink of an eye, the Beast grabbed Beatrice and the Woodsman’s daughter again with the tangles of thick tree branches. Beatrice still held strong to the axe and began to whack at the tree branches. “Now, Wirt, let’s try this again. I will let your friends go if you just come with me.”

Wirt looked up at Beatrice, the Woodsman’s daughter, and the Beast, looked down at the fallen, still burning lantern, and then back up at them. The Beast shuddered again and suddenly two tree branches were aimed towards the Woodsman’s daughter’s eyes and Beatrice’s voice gave a chirping noise mid-yell. Blue feathers started to wind up Beatrice’s red hair and the branches were moving closer and closer to the other girl’s widening eyes.

“Tick tock, tick tock. Do you hear the clock ticking? I do not have the patience to wait all day for you.”

Wirt decided to take a third option again. He had earned a happy ending once without taking any of the demon’s options. It wasn’t like he couldn’t do it again. He tried not to look up too closely at the menacing branches that were positioned above the Woodsman’s daughter’s eyes or pay attention to the fact that Beatrice’s yells had completely turned into ear ringing trills. Her arms had shrunk down and were in the process of forming wings. She dropped the axe by Wirt’s feet.

It was finally his moment now.

Wirt picked up the lantern and axe and raced up to the Beast. “I will never join you!” He swung the axe at the Beast’s midsection while simultaneously opening up the lantern and blowing out the candle inside. Beatrice had said that just extinguishing the lantern couldn’t defeat the Beast. Perhaps a little extra force was needed.

Wirt felt the axe hit something, but not quite what he was expecting. The Beast shook and trembled with laughter. Laughter? Why was he laughing? “I thought that I had told you that it was going to be very difficult to kill me a second time. Oh yes, I remember now, you do have issues listening to others.” The Beast leaned down at Wirt. Eyes the perfect hue of white were focused on Wirt’s bemused face. “Say goodbye to your friends, lover boy.”

Wirt managed to close his eyes to spare himself of half of the gory details. His hands, trembling on the lantern and axe’s handles, could not reach up to cover his ears. The Woodsman’s daughter gave a scream that surpassed what he had heard during the town’s inferno. Wirt cringed and felt like he wanted to empty his stomach’s contents (or lack of thereof – he didn’t remember when his last meal was) when he heard a sick crunch and popping noise. When he opened his eyes again, he saw an almost perfectly pristine hazel-colored eyeball by the heel of his boot, optic nerve still attached and bloody.

Beatrice’s transformation was complete. The Beast closed a group of tightknit branches over her. She fluttered around her newfound cage furiously. She threw herself against the branches and tried to squeeze in between them, but everything was just close enough to keep her contained.

Wirt felt the handle of the axe begin to shake and grow hot. He tried to let go, but his hand did not obey. He couldn’t feel any sensation in his hand really. He moved his other hand to pry himself off of the axe, but it wouldn’t cooperate either. It was like his brain was no longer connected to his body.

“Are you ready to see true darkness?” Wirt looked back up at the Beast. He looked all around. Darkness was everywhere.

Wirt attempted to flex his fingers. They were moving again. The axe and the lantern were gone. He shakily looked around. There was absolutely nothing. No Beast, no Beatrice, no Woodsman’s daughter, no trees, no Adelaide’s house – just pure nothingness.

Sometimes nothing was scarier.

Wirt took a slow step forward. He was scared to call out into the darkness. He might awaken something and give himself a fate worse than the Woodsman’s and his daughter combined. He held his hands to his face, just to test the darkness. He could faintly see his hands. It wasn’t too dark. Maybe his eyes just needed some adjusting.

A sharp pain suddenly penetrated Wirt’s chest. His mind was racing. No, no, no, he thought as he opened the first few buttons of his jacket and inspected himself. He couldn’t really see anything and nothing seemed to wrong.

“Heartburn, just heartburn,” Wirt muttered to himself. The pain continued to be persistent. It was searing, burning, and demanding attention. Wirt touched his chest. The pain was directly where his heart was. His mind stopped running and drew a blank.

The worst case scenario briefly popped into his mind: his heart was going to stop beating and spontaneously combust. No, he had hit the Beast with an axe. An axe blade was going to come swinging at him any minute now.

Wirt took his hands off of his chest and sighed deeply, awaiting the fate that he had determined for himself. He felt a soft substance come off of his chest and stick to his hands. He held his fingers up to his face. He couldn’t really see what it was.

Wirt touched his chest again. More of the substance came off and his heart gave a leap and the pain restricted slightly. He held his fingers up to his face again. Skin. It was skin. He had pulled off his own skin.

Wirt shrieked and vigorously wiped his hands off the sides of his coat. How was that even possible? There wasn’t any blood. His chest didn’t feel any different other than the intensifying pain he was feeling.

He held up his hands again after he was satisfied and tried to control his breathing. He just needed to calm down.

The skin on the tips of his fingers was gone.

The pain then decided that it did not want to localize in his chest anymore. It began to radiate through his entire body, especially through his head. Wirt felt an almost stabbing pain in his temples that was indescribable to his panicking mind.

“What do you prefer, ‘lover boy’ or ‘asinine child’?” A laugh echoed off. There was something more wholesome about the laugh, Wirt wasn’t sure why. His vision was flowing in and out and two hands – smooth, not abnormal – leapt through the darkness and grabbed him.

The hands were everywhere. His chest, his fingertips, the sides of his face. When they touched his temples, he nearly screamed. Wirt hated pain. He hated it. He hated being in pain and seeing others in pain. A hand brushed across the inside of his leg and he shuddered. Another hand ran down his body, causing another reaction. Fingers brushed across his lips and Wirt gathered enough strength to turn his head away. The fingers moved past his lips anyway and rested on his tongue. Wirt tasted sap once more, but it was sweet.

“No answer? Hm, let’s go with lover boy.” There was another laugh. “This is perfect.” Two vibrant eyes peered at him through the darkness. They flowed in and out of vision and trembled slightly. _Like television static_ , Wirt’s clusterfuck of a mind whispered to him.

⁂

Wirt felt a long sense of weightlessness and nothingness and all types of pure emptiness. It would have been a peaceful feeling if his heart wasn’t pierced with terror. His last memory continuously rolled throughout his head: Beatrice turning into a bird, the Woodsman’s daughter’s gouged eyes, the darkness, his skin, random bursts of color.

And then, finally, he woke up.

Wirt’s memories scattered elsewhere as he opened his eyes. Intense brightness flooded his vision and he winced. The Unknown had always had a dreary atmosphere. The sun had never shined so bright before. Wirt secured the brim of his hat to shade his eyes.

Wirt took a moment to gather himself together. He had simply passed out, nothing too bad. He looked down at his hands. The tips of his fingers were red and bruised, but the skin was still there. Wirt was afraid to look at his chest though.

He looked around. The Woodsman’s daughter was just a few feet away from him, decaying. Her eyes were nowhere in sight. Wirt faced away from her. He felt an overwhelming sense of guilt flood through him. He wasn’t able to save her. If anything, he had just stood and watched it all happen like some kind of unconcerned bystander.

A loud chirp caught his attention.

Beatrice was in the other direction, still flapping inside of the birdcage. She was flying with much less spirit then she had before, but she was at least still alive. Wirt raced over to the cage and broke the twigs apart. He felt a few splinters dig into his already ruined fingers, but he didn’t care. Beatrice leapt up into his hands and he caressed the tip of her head with a callused finger. This was the way that he was used to seeing her: grey head, blue feathers, red breast, white stomach, but not the chirping noises.

Wirt continued to stroke her back as he carried her to Adelaide’s house. “It’s good thing that we’re here, huh?” His voice was scratchy and downright did not sound good, but he needed to say something to reassure Beatrice (and himself). He was the only one who could still speak. “Maybe the scissors are still here. Well, you did take them, so we can go to your house if they’re there. But, uh, let’s just check here first, really quick.”

Wirt moved the tapestry and took a long look out of the window. He didn’t see anything suspicious. Beatrice gave a long chirp from his hands. Wirt found himself chuckling, but his humor was gone. Wirt moved the quilt up so some sunlight could get into the room, but not too much. His eyes were still sensitive. “I know, I know. You’re probably telling me to hurry up right now. Just wait one second.” Wirt looked around the house. It was a small space. It shouldn’t have been too hard to find a pair of golden bird scissors among a bunch of blankets. He was right. He spotted something glint in the sun’s light. He walked over to it as fast as he could.

It was a pair of scissors, but not exactly the ones he was looking for. The scissors had the same design: the bird’s beak for the blades, the feathers and legs for the handle, and talons for the finger holes. The color was different though. These scissors were more of a bronze than gold.

Beatrice chirped again. “I know. I’m overthinking it. I always overthink everything.” Wirt pick the scissors up and placed Beatrice down on the vanity. She outstretched her wings. He wondered if it was going to be painful for her, cutting off her wings. She seemed pretty eager though, so hopefully it wasn’t going to be too much trouble. “Okay, let’s do this.”

Wirt took in a deep breath and picked up the scissors. They gave a little snipping sound as he experimentally opened and closed them. Beatrice gave a quiet peep as he did so. She must have been nervous also. Wirt took in another breath. “Okay, let’s do this,” he said again.

Wirt took one of Beatrice’s wings and closed his eyes. He quickly positioned the scissors over her wings and gave it two large cuts. He was going to treat this like he was ripping off a Band-Aid – fast is best. He did the other side too before he could stop and hesitate.

Wirt sent down the scissors on the corner of the vanity and opened his eyes. “That wasn’t too bad,” he murmured to himself. Beatrice didn’t respond. Not with a word or a chirp. Wirt looked down at her. There was just a bloodied bluebird on the vanity. The bird’s chest wasn’t rising up and down with air and its body wasn’t pulsing with a heartbeat. The wings were by its sides. They were leaking some type of dark fluid also, but not blood. There was blood all over the body. The bird’s stomach was redder than its chest.

Wirt looked around in confusion. He didn’t know how the scissors were exactly supposed to work, but the human Beatrice should have appeared at any moment by then, he was sure. He waited. Nothing happened. More blood continued to leak out of the bird, out of Beatrice.

“Beatrice?” Nothing happened. “Uh, Beatrice, are you… a-are you…?” Wirt knew his efforts were fruitless. “Beatrice!” Wirt scrambled to pick up the torn off wings. He pressed the wings back into the sockets that he had cut them from. “B-Beatrice, it’s going to be fine. J-Just wait one second. One second, I-I’m going to fix this.” The wings just continued to fall off. He didn’t want to jam the wings back in. He didn’t want to hurt Beatrice anymore.

“M-Maybe I can sew them back on. Yeah, t-that might work.” Wirt rubbed his eyes raw from the incoming tears. He wouldn’t be able to help Beatrice if he was a sobbing, shriveling mess.

He managed to locate Adelaide’s sewing supplies on the bed. He gathered up her needle and thread and raced back to Beatrice. “Just hold on Beatrice, just hold on.” His hands were shaking something fierce. He could barely see the eye of the needle; nonetheless put the thread through it. Beatrice’s chest was sinking down, more and more fluid was pouring out, and he was panicking over the fact that he couldn’t do a basic sewing step.

Wirt grew frustrated and threw the sewing materials down. He picked up Beatrice and cradled the wingless bird’s body in his hands as delicately as he could. The bird’s eyes were closed. It still wasn’t moving. Beatrice still wasn’t moving.

Wirt felt something inside of him break.

He felt the familiar sensations of crying took over. He felt hot tears prick his eyes and his nose – though still broken – was becoming even number. He held Beatrice to his chest and sank down to his knees. “Beatrice. Beatrice, I-I’m so sorry.” Wirt hiccupped a sob back. “I-I shouldn’t have done that. I shouldn’t have played hero. I’m not a hero. I’m so stupid. I-I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry…”


	5. Chum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Let me see if I’m getting this right: your uncle wrote about weird stuff, a demon made you sleep-kill your sister, you gave the demon your body to bring her back to life, and then you came to the Unknown to meet me? Why? I don’t get it.”

_Wirt dreamt of her again. Her fruit punch red lipstick, perfect chocolate-colored curls, and infectious smile. Wirt was around seven or so years old, it was about three years since his father’s death, and the pain was still evident in his mother’s eyes, but she would still smile, still curl her hair every morning, and leave a lipstick mark on her son’s cheek every morning before she left for work._

_Wirt had gone to summer camp that year. He was frustrated that his mother’s new boyfriend had gotten her a nice blue jacket for her birthday. He decided to make her a keychain with her name carved into it, but he knew that it wasn’t enough._

_His mother had given him life, and he was just giving her a keychain. His mother had held him close when he woke up a mess from his nightmares and stayed home from work for him during his entire bout with the chicken pox, and he was just giving her a keychain. His mother taught him how to walk and swim, and he was giving her a measly keychain he made during summer camp. His mother had given him thousands of meals and a good education, and all he could say was, “I made you a keychain at camp. I-It has your name on it, see?”_

_Every morning since then before his mother went off to work, she would apply her lipstick, pick up Wirt’s keychain, and then kiss him goodbye._

_Wirt woke up crying._

_He wasn’t sure how long he had spent in Adelaide’s house. Ever since the incident with the Beast, the Woodman’s daughter, and Beatrice, he had been lying in Adelaide’s bed, curled up underneath all of her thick, intricate tapestries and would dream of his mother, his step-father, Greg, and everyone else who was lost._

_He had seen what he was becoming. He knew why the Beast thought that everything was perfect. Wirt was the Beast now. Where his temples had been in excruciating pain, antlers were now growing. Quickly too. There were already hooks attached to the ends. Wirt had accidentally broken the vanity mirror when he turned away from his reflection. He wondered if his eyes were going to change colors and if he was going to prey on others in the forest. He didn’t want to. His fingertips had healed and he was scared to look at his chest._

_The lantern and the axe were still broken and Wirt had placed them in a dark corner of the home, out of sight. He had taken a few peeks outside here and then. It was still spring. It rained and weeds were growing wild. He watched the Woodsman’s daughter’s body be dragged away by some creature of the forest one dark, rainy night and he hadn’t seen the creature since._

_One day a gust of wind had blown the girl’s eye by the doorstep. Wirt took a cut of cloth, collected it, and set it on Adelaide’s worktable. Out of morbid curiosity and boredom, Wirt placed the eye inside of one of the many mysterious jars in the household to see what would happen. The eyeball froze in the gel-like liquid and had stayed preserved ever since (Wirt kept the eye out of sight though). Wirt then grew inspired._

_When he had taken the dead bluebird’s body, Wirt cried again. He felt like he should do something in honor of Beatrice. Leaving her remains in some witch’s sewing basket wasn’t respectful. He didn’t want to bury her either just in case he figured out a way to bring her back, so Wirt felt that preservation was right. It was another (unwanted) skill that he picked up at summer camp._

_So, hoping that his year of home economics and chemistry were going to pay off, Wirt went to work. He washed all of the dried blood off of the feathers with the rainwater he had gathered first. He had to pause and gather himself several times when he sewed the bird’s wings back on. He then positioned the bird as if it was going to take off and fly away when he placed it inside of the jar. He kept the jar on the worktable and lifted the blanket off of the window next to it slightly. Whenever morning came the light would shine on the jar and it looked like Beatrice was about to take flight at any moment._

_Yet in the present, Wirt was drying his eyes and forced himself to get out of bed. He looked down the shards of glass on the floor. His antlers were still there. He was still a monster._

_Wirt went back to bed._

⁂

Dipper looked over the journal pages that he had salvaged. He only had a short opportunity to take the pages before Stan locked the journals up. Dipper made sure to take the pages that coordinated with everything that was going on: a page about Bill, a page about Eternal Garden Cemetery, and a few pages about the creatures and activities that were over Eternal Garden’s walls and in the forest around it. Dipper noticed that some parts of the journals didn’t specifically apply to Gravity Falls, but to some of the areas that were around town. He knew that it was not a coincidence that Bill had parked his gravesite next to an area with almost as much supernatural activity as the Falls itself.

Two particular entries caught his eye. Dipper blindly went through the forest as he read over them. The first was entitled “Original Beast” and showed a drawing of a large shadowy figure with bright eyes and antlers. There were side notes saying that the creature stalked the forest and fed upon lost souls – pretty basic stuff.

“Reawakened Beast” was interesting though. There were two small sketches. The first featured a frowning man with budding antlers and a large hat shading his eyes. The second featured the man with completely mature antlers and branches wrapping around his shoulders. The hat was gone in this sketch and Dipper saw that the man had colorful eyes now, like the first Beast. He had a wicked smile, thread wrapped around his fingers, and there was a lantern and axe sketched next to him (no notes on them though).

There were more notes about the second Beast, but they were all doubtful and filled with question marks. One said that he was originally a man. The next suggested that he had a magical book or journal or something filled with mythical wisdom, another suggested that he was reincarnated in some way and stuck in between life and death, and another gave a theory that he could control between man and monster, but it was crossed out. Only one note was concrete: the second Beast changed during the phases of the moon. New moon seemed to equal all man, full moon equaled monster. How interesting. There was an arrow at the bottom and he flipped the page over.

Bill was on the page, along with the mysterious man in Dipper’s dreams. Bill had mentioned that it was an incubus, but Dipper doubted it. The man was dubbed “Old Scratch the Incubus” and, oh wow, he was wrong, it was a confirmed incubus now. Dipper wanted to tear the drawing of Bill off of the page. He hated that Bill was right about everything. The page suggested a connection between Bill, the incubus, and both of the Beast's and that the second Beast’s book had the information on how to eliminate Bill and the incubus, but it looked like Ford didn’t stick around long enough to find this book.

Dipper needed to find this Reawakened Beast.

Dipper reached a clearing in the forest sooner than he thought he would. He saw a long stretch of farmland off to the distance. Now, that was something that he did see very often. He felt like he had been thrown into the pilgrim ages. There were little wooden houses that surrounded a very large pumpkin patch. Dipper absentmindedly tapped a pumpkin with his foot as he passed it. He wondered why this town was so fascinated with pumpkins. Surely, they didn’t need hundreds upon hundreds of pumpkins all the time. What did they do with them? Have Halloween all day? How boring.

The entrance was the town was pretty quiet. Dipper kept his eyes out for people. There wasn’t a lot of info on the Pumpkin Town. He didn’t want to stay long though. He had to get in, get some directions on where this second Beast was, and get out.

He did find a person. It was a woman wearing a long skirt and holding a pumpkin over her head. Dipper ran up to her and presented his best “no-I-am-not-socially-awkward” smile towards her. “Hi, how are you?”

“I’m doing quite peachy.” She didn’t remove the pumpkin from her face. It was slightly creepy to look into the hollow eyes of a halfway carved jack-o-lantern. “Excuse me young fellow, you look to be halfway there, but I believe that you are not quite ready yet.” Dipper looked down on himself. It must have been the clothes. She was all dressed up (more or less) and he had come in a cheap cap and hiking sweater.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t get the dress code before I came here.” Dipper gave her his best “yes-I-am-completely-comfortable-with-talking-to-you” laughs. “But anyway, I just have to ask you something. Uh, it’ll be really fast. Have you seen this guy around here?”

“No. There are no humans around here.” Dipper blinked. He blinked again. He looked around. Now he saw the citizens of the town. They were all walking vegetables.

He freaked out on the inside. He had never read about vegetable people, so he didn’t know if they were nice and friendly or liked to seek revenge on humans by cutting them up and making them side dishes. He took a step back away from the woman. Her cutout eyes widened slightly at him. It was uncanny. Everything was too damn uncanny.

“My apologies if I have alarmed you young man.”

Dipper shook his head. “No, no. I’m fine. I guess I’m not exactly talking about a human either. He has antlers and stu—wait, I have a picture of him actually.” Dipper pulled out the sketch and showed it to her.

“Oh,” she said. She looked around. All of the other pumpkin heads seemed unconcerned. “If you just go back the way you came and take a left at the fork in the path, then I believe that you will find who you are looking for.” She smiled. The corners of her sliced mouth upturned and revealed that she had teeth. _Human_ teeth.

“Thank you so much,” Dipper said. He waved goodbye to her and booked it out of the town.

⁂

Dipper was sure he was lost.

He didn’t find a fork in the path and he was pretty sure that he was heading east instead of west. It was a new moon that night and there weren’t any stars in the sky for some reason, so he was literally in the dark. He muttered to himself as he continued to walk aimlessly through the forest. “Being in a town with walking pumpkins is worse than getting lost,” he convinced himself.

Dipper guessed that he had been walking through the forest for hours before he finally found another clearing. The sun had set long ago and the night’s chill had already settled in deep. He pulled his hands inside the sleeves of his sweater and walked as quickly as he could to the clearing. Maybe there was a normal town there or a house or something. He needed something. He wasn’t sleeping out in the open and he was getting hungry.

He found a stone house ahead of him. It gave off an ominous aura in the darkness with the bare trees surrounding it. Dipper sucked it up and went to the house. Maybe it was abandoned. He could rest there and dip out in the morning.

The wooden door creaked loudly when he opened it. Dipper held his breath. Hopefully he didn’t catch anyone or anything’s attention. Dipper tried to quietly close the door behind, but it only groaned again.

Dipper heard footsteps coming from behind him. The room suddenly illuminated. He turned around to see a girl – human girl, thank goodness – holding a candle and facing him in surprise. She looked peculiar also. Bill must have really made Dipper travel through time. The girl was wearing an actual bonnet.

“Why have you broken into my home?” Her voice was light and delicate. Dipper didn’t understand why she was whispering. Was there someone else in the house?

“I-I’m sorry. I just needed a place to stay for the night. Do you mind? I’ll be gone in the morning, I promise. It’s just really like scary outside. Did you know that there’s people with pumpkins for heads just a few miles away?” The girl’s expression remained the same throughout his entire explanation: indifferent.

“I would love for you to stay, but I am afraid that I have a guest occupying my home that I am sure you would not like to meet, if you understand what I mean.” The candlelight wavered across her face. Dipper caught her glancing to the side. He looked also. There was a door underneath a staircase.

“Is this guest the Beast by chance? I’m looking for him.” The hesitation was evident on her face. She glanced towards the door again. Dipper was tempted to go over to the door and open it himself.

“Are you sure that you’re looking for the Beast?”

“Yeah, I'm pretty sure.” The girl slowly nodded.

“I will, um, let us both see if he is up for a visit.” Dipper followed behind her as she walked to the door. Anticipation was growing with every step that he took. It couldn’t have been this easy to find this guy. The girl knocked softly on the door and then opened it slightly. “You have a visitor,” the girl quietly said.

“Come in,” a voice rasped on the other side. Dipper was taken aback. Everything was going his way for once. He wondered what was going to go wrong this time around. The girl opened the door for him.

“Too many lights hurt his eyes,” she murmured before she closed the door again. Dipper was now in the dark with the second Beast. Now what?

“Hi, I’m Dipper.” Dipper wanted to slap himself. His level of awkwardness was illegal.

“I’m Wirt,” the voice responded. “Why are you here? Don’t you know that you’re subjected to listen to bad poetry and depressing songs on the clarinet if you stay too long?” Wirt drily laughed.

Dipper nervously laughed along. “No, uh, I came to ask you something. For a favor actually. Okay, this is a long story actually.”

“Like, really long?”

“Yeah.” It was Dipper’s turn to laugh humorlessly.

“That’s okay. I love stories. You should sit down or something if it’s gonna be too long.”

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea, yeah.” Dipper just sat where he was and leaned against the closet door. Could Wirt see him through the darkness? Was it a trait that came with being the Beast? If only Dipper had a pen right then. “Okay, where do I start? Okay, so one of my great-uncles made a bunch of journals about all the supernatural, paranormal, weird stuff that happens in and around Gravity Falls.”

“Before you start, could you tell me what decade you’re from?” Dipper blinked. That was an odd question.

“Uh, 2010’s.”

“Wow. Okay, keep going.”

“So, when I was twelve I made it this thing with my twin sister that we would find all of the journals and learn everything about them. There were other people who wanted the journals too, including this demon. Does ‘Bill Cipher’ ring any bells for you?”

“It doesn’t, sorry.”

“Eh, whatever. Ever seen this big triangle guy before with a top hat and a cane?”

“No, but I’ll tell you when I see him.”

“Thanks. Anyway, Bill is a dream demon. I don’t know how exactly, but I think he gave me a nightmare where he forced me to kill my sister, Mabel. I was being stupid and made a deal for him to keep my body so he could bring my sister back to life. So, I was just walking through the forest, I found this place where there were people with pumpkins for heads, and then one of them pointed out that you were here.”

“Let me see if I’m getting this right: your uncle wrote about weird stuff, a demon made you sleep-kill your sister, you gave the demon your body to bring her back to life, and then you came to the Unknown to meet me? Why? I don’t get it.”

“In one of the journal entries it said that you had a book about how to get rid of Bill. I came here to see if it was true.”

“Oh, okay, okay. We can get it in the morning, all right? It’s not good to travel at night and you really shouldn’t do it again.” Dipper nodded, and then he realized that there was a chance that Wirt didn’t have night vision after all.

“Yeah, okay. I won’t do it again.” Dipper stood up. “Hey, do you have a pen?”

“Yeah. Here.” Dipper felt something hit his foot. He picked it up.

“And, would it be weird if I took notes about you? Ford didn’t write a lot about you or this place in general.”

“Yeah, it’s weird, but I don’t mind. I’m sorta used to being a sideshow oddity now.”

“Don’t call yourself that. You’re really cool. You’re amazing.” Did Wirt seriously not see how fantastic his circumstances were?

“How do you know that? You can’t even see me.”

“No, but I saw sketches of you, and judging from those I think you’re pretty cool.” Dipper was showing off the reasoning skills of a little kid, but he couldn’t help himself. He became a ten-year-old girl when it came to this stuff. “Look, we can talk more tomorrow. I’m exhausted. Goodnight Wirt.”

“’Night. You said that your name was Dipper?”

“Yeah.”

“Is that your real name?”

“Is Wirt your real name?”

“My name was actually supposed to be Walt, but for some reason the nurses at the hospital or whatever misspelled it as ‘Wirt’ and my mother liked it and kept it like that.”

“Dipper’s just a nickname, not my real name.” Dipper smiled. He was a foot out of the closet now, but he still wanted to talk to Wirt. Wirt was an enigma in a way and he could hold up a conversation and didn’t question Dipper when he told his twisted tale. “Yeah, I should go. Goodnight again.”

“Goodnight. See you in the morning.”

“Yeah, yeah. See you in the morning.” Dipper hurried up and left. They had all day to talk tomorrow.


	6. Pity Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He felt as if all of his control over anything was relinquished. He couldn’t even control the way he loudly moaned or how he came until he felt a stain forming in the front of his trousers. Defenselessness was the worst kind of feeling.

_In hindsight, Wirt thought it was inevitable._

_Wirt stayed holed up in Adelaide’s home for the remainder of the spring and the entirety of summer. He didn’t know how he allowed himself to stay in bed for such a long time. It only made him realize that Greg was the one who had encouraged him to go about his daily life during his most crucial moments. And then thinking about Greg made Wirt curl up into a fetal position with two blankets over him._

_Wirt didn’t notice the correlation at first, because it wasn’t so obvious. As the moon waxed, his appearance changed. Branches that appeared out of nowhere wrapped around his shoulders tightly and curled down his arms. Wirt didn’t bother to remove them. He had to brush leaves out of his bed every morning._

_His antlers grew until the Woodsman’s hat couldn’t sit comfortably on his head. Wirt found them to hold more of a resemblance to a tree’s roots than a deer’s antlers. Wirt hated it. He was tempted to take the blade of the axe and cut away at the antlers, but he didn’t want to mess with them. He was sure that there was going to be repercussions for doing such a thing._

_Wirt curled up in the bed on the first night of snowfall. The light of the bright, full moon peeked out from the uncovered window by Beatrice. It was a peaceful night at first. Wirt made sure that he wasn’t cold._

_“Arise. There is a lost soul awaiting.”_

_Wirt jumped out of the bed. He curled his feet up when he made contact with the cold floor. “Who’s there?” He looked around. Beatrice was still frozen inside of the jar. Wirt put on the Woodsman’s boots and walked toward the light of the window._

_“Take the lantern and the axe and let’s get to work.” That voice was unmistakable. Wirt lifted the tapestry up some more to light the room and looked around. He couldn’t see the Beast, but the demon’s voice was loud and clear._

_“No. I told you that I’ll never work for you.”_

_“Oh, but you are.” The room grew darker suddenly. Wirt looked around in confusion. He had been sent back to that place. Two bright eyes peered at him. They flashed yellow and shuddered as the Beast laughed. What was he so amused about now? “Did you forget who completely holds the power now?”_

_“Me. I have the power. Now get me out of this place.”_

_“You’re awfully cocky for someone who has done nothing to stop this beautiful metamorphosis from occurring.” Wirt shook his head. He could feel the branches squeeze tighter across his shoulders. The eyes turned slightly, a sign that the Beast had cocked his head. “There you go, saying ‘no’ again. Say something positive for once.”_

_“I am positive that you don’t have any control over me.” The words were empty, Wirt knew that, but they felt good to say. He felt a drip of confidence reside in him._

_The Beast’s eyes convulsed into a series of numerous colors. Wirt had poked the sleeping beast. He had seen the Beast in a frenzied panic before, but not sheer anger._

_“I have complete control over you!” Two branches reached out from nothingness and hooked around Wirt’s shoulders and forced him off of his feet. He thrashed around and tried to pry the branches off, but they were like stone. “Why aren’t you fighting back? I thought that you were in complete control.” Hands reached out. One grabbed Wirt by the sides of his face and another took root at his foot._

_“Get off!” Wirt kicked at the hand, but it was relentless. The hand trailed up and down his leg. A shiver traveled up Wirt’s spine. The temperature was dropping by the second. Fear – a combination of the impending coldness and what the Beast was capable of – seized Wirt’s chest. He momentarily froze as he felt frost nip at his exposed fingertips. He blinked a flurry of snowflakes away. They were outside now._

_“Why are you scared?” The hand brushed across the inside of his thighs once more and the second hand pried his mouth open. “I thought that you were in complete control. Stop me.” The fingers traced across his teeth before they sank down on Wirt’s tongue. Wirt didn’t understand the sap. It was sickly sweet now. He tried to get the saccharine taste out of his mouth, but more sap poured in. It had a sedative effect now. He could feel his fingers numbing over and his body weaken, but he continued to fight._

_“Is this your fighting spirit? Such a shame.” The Beast laughed and the hand rubbed across the crotch of Wirt’s pants. Wirt shivered away from the touch. He couldn’t believe his current circumstances._

_“Stop, stop.” He spat out the remaining sap from his mouth. “Okay, you’re control, not me. I know that now. Put me down.”_

_“Why should I waste such a nice display of humiliation?” The hand squeezed. Wirt bit his lip. “But unfortunately we have little time to. Let’s go now.” Wirt was thrown back down on the ground. His head hurt again. His arms moved down on their own accord suddenly and picked up a fixed lantern and axe by his feet._

_“W-What’s going on?” He was moving, but he wasn’t controlling his legs either._

_“Do I need to remind you that I am the one who is in control?” The Beast chuckled. The laugh erupted throughout Wirt’s body and made his eardrums burst. He didn’t understand why the volume of the Beast’s voice was heightened now. He could feel his uncovered hands begin to shake against the lantern and axe’s handles from the chilling air, but he could do nothing about it. He was living a nightmare in his waking life._

_The snow fell harder as Wirt was forced to trudge on. “At least let me put my hands in my pockets or something, I think I’m getting frostbite.” Wirt couldn’t feel his fingers and they were reddening._

_“No. The lost soul is right ahead of us.” Wirt tried to focus ahead. It was hard to see when he couldn’t turn his own head or eyes. Torture. Wirt was experiencing grade A torture._

_“Excuse me,” the Beast spoke through Wirt’s lips, “are you lost?” He held the lantern up. It was only a little girl wearing a large sunbonnet and a puffy dress. The bonnet was shading her face, but Wirt was grateful for it. He didn’t want to look at her face. She was entwined in more branches than he was. He had been hopeless, but she was in despair._

_“Yes,” the girl whispered. Her voice was too faint. Wirt could hear that her breathing was slowing by the second._

_“Let me help you,” the Beast hissed. An odd sensation ran through Wirt’s eyes. The world suddenly turned red and yellow and the girl was completely engulfed in branches. The Beast quickly got to work chopping the wood down, even though the girl’s hand had not completely transformed yet. Wirt’s own hands continued to shake. He wasn’t sure if it was purely from the cold anymore._

_“S-Stop,” Wirt weakly pled._

_“The transformation is complete. All hope is gone. Accept the fact that there are moments in life where you cannot save others.” He simply cut off the girl’s hand when it got in the way._

⁂

Dipper awoke early in the morning. He was too excited. He was in a new place filled with new mysteries and he was going to find out how to defeat Bill once and for all. It was like Christmas, but better.

The girl from last night – he found out that her name was Lorna before he went to bed – knocked twice on the door before she opened it. “Breakfast is ready if you want to eat.” Dipper hopped out of bed. He was also excited about the fact that he could talk to other people in this new place, but it did bring a question to his mind: if he was an apparition that could not interact with other humans, did that mean that Lorna was some form of a ghost also? That was a question for later. He would rather eat first.

The house looked much better with the curtains drawn. Dipper’s stomach loudly grumbled when he saw the table. There was pottage, tea, bacon, and eggs on the table along with a large bowl that was covered by a small tablecloth. He sat down, took a plate, and dug in.

As Dipper gobbled down some bacon, he noticed that the sun had hardly risen yet. “Why are we eating breakfast so early?”

“This is just a good time for everyone to eat together.” Lorna sat opposite of him and poured a bowl of pottage for herself. “Did I mention that Wirt prefers low lights?”

“Yeah, you did last night. The closet was pitch black.”

“Yes. He can take more sunlight later on, but he must leave the house during his…” Lorna took a long sip from her bowl and shook her head. “Never mind. He told me that you two were going out today, so he can explain whatever he likes to you.” She glanced toward the closet door. Dipper could hear some commotion coming from inside. Wirt must have been getting up now. “He may seem like he would be difficult to get along with, but he is very happy that he has someone new to speak to. Just promise one thing for me though.” The closet doorknob was turning now.

Dipper leaned in towards her. “What?”

“Do not lose hope. Whatever you do, do not lose hope. No matter what the situation is.

It sounded like a simple enough task. Dipper nodded. “Yeah, okay. I promise.” The closet door then opened.

Dipper dropped the egg on his fork into his pottage. He wasn’t sure if it was a proper reaction or not, but, wow, Wirt looked better than the sketches. Wirt placed his hat over his head, but Dipper caught a glance at the two small budding antlers on his forehead. Ford had done him no justice in the drawings. Wirt leaned more towards “attractive, young man” than “horrible, forest creature” in Dipper’s opinion. There was an awkward smile on Wirt’s face as he took his seat in between Dipper and Lorna. Dipper realized that he had been staring agape at Wirt like an idiot ever since he joined the table. Dipper picked up his egg again and closed his mouth.

“Good morning,” Dipper murmured. It was so hard to fake like he was disinterested. He wanted to jump on Wirt’s shoulders and let him carry the both of them back home. His pen was right beside him. He had the urge to click it. Perhaps there was a way to take Wirt out of this place.

“’Morning,” Wirt nodded. Dipper noticed that string wrapped around almost all of Wirt’s fingers as the other brunet went to grab a glass of tea. Wirt glanced between his tea and Dipper as he sat back in his seat. He had had his back turned to Dipper during their conversation last night. He could easily see through the darkness and he didn’t want to see Dipper, just in case his mind was throwing tricks at him, just in case Lorna was playing a cruel joke on him. Nobody ever came to visit Wirt. They were all afraid of him, of what was inside him.

Now that Wirt could see Dipper properly, it was an understatement to say that he was in awe. He had painted a picture in his mind of some type of freakish explorer who made up tales and wanted to add Wirt to a freak show collection, but that was not in the case. In fact, Dipper looked about his age. It was odd to see such a young man with a passion about the supernatural. Wirt thought that creepy, middle-aged men with no hobbies and managed to score two episodes of “paranormal”-themed television programs were the only ones who were interested in ghosts and monsters.

“You look way better in person,” Dipper blurted out. He closed his eyes and slammed his fork on the table. He needed to control the word vomit – immediately. “Not that I thought you were ugly or anything before.”

“That’s okay, I think. I actually thought that you were going to be some old guy who just wanted my skull for his collection or something.”

“Really? Do I sound old?”

“I don’t know. You have one of those voices where someone wouldn’t be sure if it was a five-year-old or a fifty-year-old speaking.” Dipper wasn’t sure if he had been insulted or not.

“You both sound remarkably alike to me,” Lorna pitched in.

“No we don’t,” Dipper said.

“We sound completely different.” Lorna simply shrugged and returned to her pottage.

⁂

_Wirt was already shaking from the coldness, fear, disgust, and anger. He was forced to crank the wood into oil. He was forced to throw every single piece in. He was forced to listen to the Beast sing loudly in his ears. The Beast was everywhere. It was suffocating. It was inescapable._

_Wirt’s fingers were a blue, unrecognizable mess when he returned back to Adelaide’s house. He couldn’t feel the warmth of the lantern as he lit it._

_“Was that too difficult?” Wirt didn’t even have the power to fight with the Beast anymore. He didn’t want to admit that he had exactly given up though. He was just holding out, just waiting until it was all over, until he could wake up and realize that everything was just a horrible ice-induced nightmare. “I said: was that too difficult?”_

_“No,” Wirt murmured. He felt the Beast leave his body. It was like the air had left his lungs and then came rushing back into him all at once. Wirt leaned against the worktable, next to Beatrice and the lantern, and caught his breath. The Beast hadn’t mentioned anything about killing the Woodsman’s daughter or about Wirt killing Beatrice. Wirt, if anything, wanted to keep it that way._

_There were ice crystals on Wirt’s fingertips. He quickly took the nearest string of thread and wrapped his fingers together. He was a frostbite expert. He had to wrap up his fingers to prevent them from moving too much and making the damage worse. “I can’t believe that you wouldn’t put gloves on or anything,” he muttered. He looked up at the Beast. He didn’t mean for any harsh words to slip out._

_“I’m getting tired of hearing so many smart remarks from you. There’s no need to be problematic. The deed is done and will be done again and again as long as you and I are alive.” What type of nonsense was the Beast sputtering now?_

_“What do you mean?”_

_“I mean that your soul is bound to the lantern now. If the lantern burns out, then you will die, and if you die, then I will seize to exist also.”_

_Wirt looked back and forth between the Beast and the lantern. “Wait, that doesn’t make any sense.”_

_“Life doesn’t make any sense.”_

_“This is so stupid. Why don’t you just give me a break? I don’t get why you’re so obsessed with me. I’m literally a nobody. Nobody. I was the one who made my kid brother drown twice in some river and made us both come to this godforsaken place. I was the one who nearly killed my brother twice in the process of being here. I was the one who killed Beatrice and I can’t figure out a way to bring her back. I’m just a horrible good for nothing, and now you’re telling me that the only way to get rid of you is if I die? I-I ca—” Wirt’s voice broke with a sob. He dried his stupid tears away. He had been brooding and sulking for months now. He wasn’t going to shrivel up into a sad mess again._

_“You sound distressed. This is not my area of expertise.” The Beast moved closer though. “What would make you feel better? Tell me, what gives you hope, lover boy?”_

_“Greg. Greg gave me hope. Beatrice too.”_

_“And where is Greg now?”_

_“I don’t know where he is.”_

_“And where is Beatrice?”_

_“She’s gone, for now.”_

_“So, you have no one to give you hope anymore. My, oh, my, does that realization make the eyes water.” Wirt reached up to dry his eyes again. He was not going to give the Beast the satisfaction of seeing him cry again._

_The Beast reached out and dried Wirt’s tears for him. Wirt stood still, taken aback by the gesture. He wasn’t sure what the Beast was getting at. “Don’t lose hope just yet. There have been much too many whispers about how you are a hopeless, simpleminded fool who cannot think for himself even when all of the answers are right in front of him. Would you like for those rumors to be proven true?” Wirt shook his head. He still didn’t understand though, but he still shook his head. “Then stop crying. Now. It’s annoying. For months now you’ve been in this very house crying and waddling in the pools of your own tears. This is the longest pity party that I have ever witnessed. Stop feeling sorry for yourself for one moment and at least appreciate the good in your new situation.”_

_“There is no good in my situation. Everything is gone.”_

_The Beast’s hands moved to Wirt’s shoulders. Wirt wondered if anyone else had ever had the chance to be touched by the Beast so much before. The Beast had always taken a hands-off approach to everything, but not when it came to Wirt. It was almost flattering in a horrifying way. “Do not develop this ‘all is lost’ attitude so soon. You have had this ‘woe is me’ perspective about life for far too long now.” The hands brushed down Wirt’s shoulders. An involuntary shudder racked through Wirt’s body as the hands traced his arms and chest and slowly dragged along his stomach. The hands stopped suddenly. Wirt could breathe again. “Tell me: who are you?”_

_“Wirt?”_

_“No, who are you exactly?”_

_“I don’t know.”_

_“Precisely.” The Beast continued down again. Wirt let out a quiet sigh as the demon’s hands cupped him and began to massage him through his trousers. “This is the perfect opportunity to mold a new you.”_

_“B-But I don’t want to be anybody else.”_

_“Excuse me, what was that? I didn’t quite catch what you said.”_

_“I said that I don—” The Beast squeezed and Wirt let out a moan. He leaned against the worktable again and felt his elbow knock against the lantern slightly. The sensation was slowly returning back to his fingers. “I said that I don’t want to be anybody else.”_

_“You would just like to remain yourself?”_

_“Yeah. Yes, I do.”_

_“Well, what if we could form a better version of yourself then?” The Beast continued his ministrations until Wirt couldn’t think straight. He had the burning desire to remove his pants, lay on the table, and let the Beast have his way after all, but his dignity came into play. He backed away some from the Beast._

_“No, I’m fine the way I am.”_

_“And who told you that?”_

_“Greg did.”_

_“And where is Greg?”_

_Wirt’s heart dropped suddenly. “Gone.”_

_“So, if you’re really such a great person just the way you are, then wouldn’t Greg still be here, and wouldn’t your other friends still be alive? Face it, lover boy, you need to change.” Wirt tried to drive the new thoughts that the Beast was implementing of his head. He leaned and rocked into the demon’s touch in an attempt to distract himself. But it was no use. Wirt was a milkweed and the Beast was a disturbance. The seed had successfully been planted. “Whose fault is it that they’re gone?”_

_“I-It’s my fault. It’s all my fault.”_

_“Good. The first step in any process is admitting that you have done something wrong.” The Beast squeezed again. Wirt felt helpless. He felt as if all of his control over anything was relinquished. He couldn’t even control the way he loudly moaned or how he came until he felt a stain forming in the front of his trousers. Defenselessness was the worst kind of feeling._

⁂

Dipper and Wirt didn’t make it very far. They ended up in a nice clearing of the forest and lying on the grass side by side, looking up at the clouds. Wirt was smiling, and there were no sarcastic intentions behind his grin. He was actually smiling. He didn’t know that he was going to be able to feel such positive emotions with Dipper around.

“That one looks like a turtle.” Dipper pointed out the particular cloud that he was talking about.

“No, it looks more like a rabbit to me.”

“What are you talking about? That’s totally a turtle. You must be blind.” Wirt scoffed. It was so easy to get distracted around him.


	7. Alphabet Soup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Release your tension, young soul,” the Beast murmured. “Sorrow and fear are easily forgotten when you submit to the soil of the earth.”

_An inexplicit amount of time passed before the deed was done again, like the Beast had promised. It came to the point when Wirt became scared not only when it snowed, but when it rained, because his mind equated rain to snow, snow to winter, winter to the Beast, the Beast to killing._

_Each time was different. Their first time involved frostbitten fingers and emotional setbacks, the next few times were all cold and professional – the Beast didn’t speak to him for the entire duration. They (thankfully) did not have any more encounters with wanderers and the Beast simply hunted out bark to keep the lantern lit. Sometimes he would bellow a tune into the night, other times he was eerily silent. It wasn’t until around the seventh or eighth go when the Beast actually held another conversation with Wirt._

_“I trust you,” the Beast said._

_Wirt dropped the thread from his fingers, looked up, and gasped. “Wait, what?”_

_“I trust you,” the Beast repeated._

_“I heard you, I just don’t understand why. I mean, I don’t trust you.” Wirt immediately wanted to take his words back. “I hope that doesn’t come off wrong or anything. It’s just sort of hard to trust you, you know?”_

_“You will learn to trust me in return. Someday.” The Beast lowered down to his level. “Could you do me a favor?”_

_Wirt picked up his thread and then walked to Adelaide’s bed. He was weary. He had gone out in hopes of finding someone, or even some animal, to keep him company. Beatrice’s house was empty along with the Woodsman’s. The town had turned empty overnight also. He had even gone so much as to seek out Mrs. Langtree and the Tavern Keeper, but Wirt had forgotten that he had full-grown antlers and blood coating his stolen jacket. He had been driven out of the school immediately and there was nearly a mob forming when he was thrown out the bar._

_The Beast’s hands were on Wirt’s shoulders again. Wirt moved into the touch. He was not only weary, but lonely. He was near devastation when the Beast had ignored him during their past few encounters. He was craving any kind of attention at this point, negative or positive. And Wirt wasn’t sure whether or not the Beast would be good or bad for him._

_“What’s the favor?”_

_“I just want for you to watch over something of mine until I come back.”_

_“Oh. Are you trying to get at me trusting you with something of mine later on?” The Beast removed his hand. Wirt found himself laughing nervously. He missed the touch instantly. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that. Can you just tell me what the favor is?”_

_“It’s a simple task: watch my book until I return. Can you do that for me?” Wirt nodded, perhaps a little too eagerly. “Thank you.”_

_“Thank you for trusting me,” Wirt threw out. He straightened up some, waiting for the Beast’s touch to come back. “I-I might learn how to trust you too, you know,” he murmured. “But not right now, obviously.”_

_“Obviously?” Uh-oh. It looked like Wirt wasn’t going to get his touches any time soon. Curse his mouth._

_“I mean that, if you keep using me like this, then of course I’m not going to trust you.” Wirt knew that he was bringing the ship down, but it was too late to bring the boat to the dock now. “If we could arrange something differently, then maybe we could become friends or associates or something. I don’t know.” Wirt leaned in towards the Beast. He didn’t care if he was going to get a positive or negative reaction at this point. His skin was starving to be touched in any sort of way. He couldn’t believe that he had come to this point. Was this some form of Stockholm syndrome? Was this attention seeking attitude just a symptom of his anxiety or was he developing some sort of new self-destructing behavior? Or was he, as always, just overthinking everything and just wanted to be reminded that he was still human and still just a victim the threshold of death?_

_He was probably overthinking things._

_“I believe that we are beyond friends by now, Wirt.” Wirt blinked. He blinked twice. He let the words digest in his mind for a moment._

_“What?”_

_“I will go retrieve my book now.” The Beast vanished. Wirt went back to his thoughts. He picked up the fallen thread and put it back in the basket. He looked down at himself. He wondered if he looked undesirable. He correlated the Beast with his appearance. Whenever the demon left the antlers would disappear and the vines would vanish. He had made sure to scrub the Woodsman’s coat after each of their “ventures” and found some other clothes in his size from the empty houses in the town._

_As Wirt straightened out the collar of his shirt, a book was thrown at his side. He looked up to see the Beast again._

_“But if you are seeking the company of others I suggest that you take a trip to Adelaide’s sister’s home or the Endicott-Grey estate.” Wirt hadn’t even thought of Auntie Whispers or Lorna. He wanted to take a trip to visit Quincy and Margueritte first though._

_“Yeah, okay. I’ll go to Quincy’s tomorrow.” The hands returned._

_“But will you return back to this place after your visit?” Wirt nodded without thinking. “Good.” Fingers trailed down his sides and danced over his chest. He felt like he was being rewarded in an odd way. His pride was in denial and his dignity was silent._

_“Good,” Wirt unconsciously repeated. He closed his eyes and sighed. Perhaps there was going to be good in his future after all._

⁂

Wirt felt nervousness bubble in his stomach as he led Dipper throughout the woods. He decided that his best approach was to distract him again. He had already done so with cloud watching, some conversation would do nicely now. But it wasn’t all purely distraction though. Wirt genuinely enjoyed talking to Dipper. He was nice and easy to talk to. Wirt liked talking to Lorna and Auntie Whispers too, but they weren’t quite like Dipper.

Wirt didn’t like the topic that they were moving into though. Family equaled sensitivity.

“What was the last year that you remember exactly?”

“I came here during the spring of 1986.”

“Whoa. So you’re a directly from the eighties? My sister would love you.”

“Really? Why?”

“She has this love for the eighties like no other. I don’t know where it came from exactly. She has this giant boombox and a cassette player and all the outfits and stuff.” Dipper’s foot got caught on an uprooted root. He tried to brush it off by laughing, but he had seriously almost twisted his ankle. The forest was full of death traps. “If she had came here instead, I bet you would’ve thought that it was still the eighties.” Wirt frowned. According to Dipper, about thirty or so years had passed by in the real world.

“I have a cassette player actually.” Wirt chuckled. He had kept all of his tapes in a box in the corner of his room. He hadn’t made a mixtape in a while.

“Oh really? Did you make tapes and stuff too?”

“When I was younger I made tapes all the time. So I’m guessing that they don’t use tapes in the future, huh?”

“Nope. This sounds weird to say, but when I was a kid we used CDs and then now people just do everything online.”

“You’re making me sound old. There were CDs when I was younger. It’s just that tapes were easier to use at the time.”

“No, you’re old. Do you even know what ‘online’ means? It’s something called ‘the Internet.’ I don’t think it existed when you were a kid.”

“So we’re making fun of my age now? We’re the same age.”

“We only look the same age. And you said that I sounded cross between a baby and an old man this morning, so consider this payback.” Wirt rolled his eyes.

“Whatever.” Time for a subject change. Wirt was actually starting to feel old now. “You said that you’re twins with your sister, and that her name is Mabel, right?”

“Right. You paid attention.” Dipper nearly tripped over a rock. Wirt didn’t seem to notice though. “Yeah, Mabel’s the best. Me and her are really close.”

“I can tell. You literally died for her.”

“I would do anything for her, and I know she’ll do the same.”

“Is this a twin thing?”

“Yes and no. I guess being twins makes us closer than just being brother and sister in a way. We’ve been through a lot together. Like, so much. Too much actually. We get in a lot of trouble, it’s unimaginable.” Dipper’s foot got caught in another root and he actually tripped. He could hear Wirt snicker as he helped him up. “Yeah, we should probably take a break before I break something.”

“I think this might be the same exact place where I broke my nose.” They stopped next to a faceless tree. Dipper pulled out the pocketful of the paper he had gotten from Lorna and the pen.

“How’d you do that?”

“Have you looked at the trees yet?” Dipper looked at the trees surrounding them. He hadn’t noticed that some of the trunks of the trees depicted faces frozen in anguish and agony. He quickly sketched a few trees and jotted some notes down.

“Do you know the story behind these?”

“They’re lost souls.” Wirt shrugged. “Yeah. When I came back here the trees were all attacking me. One managed to hit my nose and broke it. It wasn’t too bad though. It healed up after like a month or two, I think.”

“You think?” Dipper was giving him an odd look.

“What?”

“What?”

“What’s with the look? Did I say something wrong? I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t apologize. I just think I noticed something. Time isn’t a concept here, huh? I’m assuming that you were born in 1968, but you don’t look fifty years old at all, not even close. And Lorna looks like she’s from the 1600’s or something, but around sixteen or so. And the pumpkin-people were all wearing pilgrim-y outfits too.”

“The Late Baroque period,” Wirt unhelpfully provided.

“Yeah. And I noticed this theme with lost souls and losing hope. And I’m technically a lost soul too. You see, I can’t interact with humans in this form. Non-human objects only. Souls are technically non-human objects too. This place is filled with lost souls. But it seems that the people who accept their fate just settle down and go about like this is still everyday life and then those who refuse their fates become even more lost, lose hope, and then become collected by you, or the Beast, who feeds off hopelessness.” Dipper tapped the pen against his cheek. “So time sort of freezes here. When some dies – or in my case, becomes separated from their body – they come here. Maybe they might ascend somewhere higher if they really accept their fate, and then if they don’t they just die twice? No, it must be when you’re in the in-between stages…” Dipper tasted ink in his mouth suddenly. He spat it out. At least he didn’t break the pen this time.

Wirt looked at Dipper in awe. “Wow,” he said. “You figured all of that out just from some trees?” Dipper was observant. Perhaps a little too observant.

Dipper nodded and began to write again. “Yup. All that from just some trees.” There was a rustle in the bushes. Dipper tucked the papers away and stood up. Wirt joined him. “I think I heard something,” he whispered. There was another rustle. It was to the left, next to a few bushes.

The bushes shook again and something leapt out. Dipper braced himself. He was in new territory with new people and creatures and no notes on them. He had absolutely no clue what to expect.

A deer came out. Dipper guessed that it was either a doe or a young buck. The deer was walking oddly. Its head was down and it was walking towards them slowly. When it approached them it sniffed at the ground before looking up. The deer’s eyes were milky white. It was blind.

The deer suddenly took off back into the bushes. Dipper found himself grinning widely. He never left adventure’s call unanswered. He took Wirt’s arm and took off after the deer without hesitation.

Wirt held onto his hat and blocked his face from some branches. “What are you doing? Why are we chasing after it?” Wirt was not a runner, but Dipper seemed to be. With Dipper’s speed they were almost catching up to the deer.

“You’re asking all the wrong questions!” Dipper pushed some more leaves and picked up the pace along with the deer. It looked like it was leading them towards a clearing. “Ask: where’s the deer going and why instead.” Wirt had to admit that he was getting some sort of rush, but he was no adrenaline junkie.

The deer was gone. It had led them to the river. The riverboat happened to be passing by also. As Wirt caught his breath, he reached underneath his hat and felt his head. The stubs of antlers were gone for now. He took the hat off and caught up with Dipper.

“What’s up with this boat?” Dipper asked.

Wirt shook his head. “You’re asking all the wrong questions. Ask: where’s the boat going and why instead.”

Dipper laughed. “No seriously. There’s music coming from it. Do you think they’ll let us on?” Wirt shrugged. He reached into his pocket and pulled out two pennies. The Woodsman’s coat had already come with some pennies and Wirt always kept them on hand just in case he needed them.

Wirt waved at the riverboat as it approached them. The boat slowed down. Wirt was back to leading Dipper again. He took his arm and hopped onto the boat. A frog in waiter attire approached them and Wirt gave him the correct payment. He wasn’t against giving another impromptu performance, but he really just wanted to enjoy the ride.

The band was in the middle of a dreary song, but there were still other frogs swaying to the rhythm and dancing together. Wirt laughed at the look of confusion on Dipper’s face. He placed a hand on Dipper’s shoulder and one on his arm and began to mimic the slow shuffling that the other frogs were doing. Dipper was even more confused.

“Do the frogs just do this all the time?”

“Yes, before they hibernate.”

“Wow.” Wirt could tell that he was itching to take notes on the frogs, but Dipper allowed for himself to be caught up in the music and dancing instead. He placed his hand on Wirt’s shoulder. “It feels like I’m time traveling.”

“You sort of are.” Wirt shrugged. The music picked up slightly. He nearly tripped over his feet and Dipper actually did. They nearly landed on a waitfrog that was trying to serve flies around. They only picked up from where they left off. Dipper tried to twirl Wirt around, but it didn’t really work out either. He ended up leaning his head against the other’s shoulder and wondering when their journey would ultimately come to an end.

⁂

_Wirt debated whether or not to look through the Beast’s book on his way to the Endicott-Grey’s. If he read the book he felt like he would tarnish some of the Beast’s newfound trust in him, and if he didn’t, he felt like he was missing something big._

_A strong odor completely canceled out all of his thoughts._

_He walked through the house on the Endicott side. No candles were lit and most of the curtains were drawn. It was only sunrise and the few windows shined an orange light on the hallways. Wirt felt like the paintings on the wall were staring at him._

_He followed the smell to a room at the end of the hall. He took in a quick breath before he opened the door. It was a bedroom. Only one window was open and the light shone directly on the scene that Wirt’s eyes were glued to._

_Quincy and Margueritte were lying side by side on the bed. Wirt could see that their hands were intertwined. All that was left of Quincy was a skeleton and a pompous outfit. Margueritte still had some skin on her bones. Her dress had sunken into the empty spaces of her decaying body though._

_Wirt slammed the door shut and ran down the hallway. He didn’t know what he was afraid of. There shouldn’t have been anyone else in the house. He didn’t see any peacocks or the horse. He assumed that they were dead also. Everyone in the Unknown were either dead or hated his guts, he didn’t understand._

_Wirt soon grew lost. The mansion had too many damn hallways. He must have taken a wrong turn somewhere. He felt his anxiety levels rise. He felt like a meltdown was about to come on, but he didn’t want to have it now – when he was panicking and could still smell the stench of death throughout the entire household._

_He went to the nearest door – another smaller bedroom – and closed himself in. He curled up against the door and began to tremble. His heart was racing, his mind was racing. It was getting harder to breathe and to focus and he felt like the room was spinning around him._

_Wirt covered his face with his hands and squeezed his eyes shut. He felt like he was waiting for something to happen, for something terrible to happen. He didn’t know what. He had been waiting for an axe to swing at his heart through the darkness since forever by now. He held back a sob, but his eyes still watered. Fear was a hell of feeling and it managed to build up inside of him until the worst happened._

_“Greg, please!” Wirt squeezed in tighter into himself and began to rack his shaking hands through his hair. “Greg, Greg,” he repeated. Greg was always there whenever he had attacks like this. He always helped him. But Greg wasn’t there. Wirt was alone._

_“Beast,” Wirt called out. No one was coming. He knew that. He tried to rock himself slowly, but panic was still flowing through him. “Poem, poem,” he murmured. He tried to think of a poem, any poem. He recited the first one that came to mind:_ “Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,” _he muttered. He couldn’t think of the rest. It felt like there was no air in the room suddenly. He felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest at any moment now._

“Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,” _Wirt recited. He felt his feelings alleviate some._ “While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping.” _He tried to control his breathing. He was fine._ “As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.” _There was nothing out to get him. He knew that._ “’Tis some visitor,’ I muttered, ‘tapping at my chamber door.’” _He had to calm down._ “Only this and nothing more.”

_When his heartbeat slowed and his breathing was under control, Wirt unbundled himself and looked across the room. He had dropped the book and it was open and a few pages had been torn out. It was tempting to look, but he didn’t even feel like snooping anymore._

_“What are you doing?” Wirt jolted and looked around. The window in the room shut close and the curtains were pulled over it. Eyes peered at him in the darkness from around the bed. He felt his hands begin to tremble again._

_“I-I wasn’t doing anything.”_

_“Why is my book open? I did not give you permission to read it.”_

_“I wasn’t reading it. I swear. I just dropped it.”_

_“Your explanation is very unconvincing.” The Beast moved closer towards him. Wirt was craving comfort. He didn’t want to be scolded and accused. It was a stupid idea to want comfort from the Beast anyway. After the demon had dried his tears that one night, he had been reminded of all of the people he lost._

_Wirt tried the doorknob, but it wouldn’t budge. He leaned his head against the door. “I’m sorry, okay? Everything I do is wrong, I know that. You don’t have to remind me. I can never make the right decisions.”_

_“Yes. You have been traveling down a path of the wrong decisions. Reading my book was one of them.”_

_“I didn’t read your book!”_

_“Then why is it open?”_

_“I told you, I dropped it and it just happened to open up when I dropped it. I wasn’t even planning on reading it.” The Beast’s eyes gleamed red. “You told me that you trusted me. Why don’t you believe me?” The eyes slowly turned back to white again. The Beast blinked._

_“I never said that I had lost my trust in you. I only said that your explanation was very unconvincing. I do actually believe you to some degree.”_

_“No you don’t.” Wirt got off of the door and looked down at his hands. He wished he had some thread, just something to occupy him._

_“You will learn to how to make the correct decisions.” The Beast reached out and traced along Wirt’s cheek and across his lips and then traveled down his neck. “Someday,” the demon added. “Would you like something?”_

_“Does it look like I need something?” The Beast pushed him back against the door._

_“I had told you before to stop with the smart remarks.” The Beast’s fingers pried his mouth open. “Let me help you. Relax.” Wirt received his weekly dosage of sap. The sap had a very calming effect. Wirt wondered if he could become addicted to it, like if it was some sort of drug. He found himself leaning against the door and swallowing the liquid down without question. The remaining tension in his body dispersed and he could think properly now. His tongue was actually beginning to curl around the Beast’s fingers._

_“Release your tension, young soul,” the Beast murmured. “Sorrow and fear are easily forgotten when you submit to the soil of the earth.”_

⁂

They got off the riverboat when it reached the Old Grist Mill. “Uh, let me warn you that there’s a dead dog in there before we go in.” The mill was still destroyed and received no more visitors that Wirt knew of. He helped Dipper go through the tattered doorway. “There’s holes in the floor too. So, watch your step.”

“Thanks for the warnings,” Dipper said. He held onto Wirt’s arm. There were windows inside of the mill – most of them were destroyed – but not much light managed to come on. Dipper had a feeling that Wirt’s night vision was much better than his.

“It’s up here.” Wirt pointed up and Dipper could make out a staircase through the darkness. “I’ll, uh, just help you up.” Wirt climbed up the stairs, avoiding the missing steps, up to the miniature balcony at the top. He hooked his feet in between the floorboards and then leaned down towards Dipper. “Grab my hands.” Dipper reached up and took hold of Wirt’s hands. Wirt quickly pulled him up and dropped him on a safe spot on the floor.

Wirt continued to hold Dipper’s hand as he led him to the corner of the balcony. He reached underneath the floorboards and pulled out the papers. He felt like a few measly pages weren’t enough. Dipper deserved the entire book for what he had done for his sister.

“I’m sorry.” Wirt handed Dipper the few pages. “I don’t have the whole book anymore, but I took a few pages. They’re probably not even helpful either.” Dipper squeezed Wirt’s hand before he let go to take the pages.

“Don’t worry. Anything’s helpful. Thank you.” Dipper squinted down at the pages. There were various codes and some text in French and Latin it looked like. “Let’s go back so I can figure these out.”

“All right.” Wirt helped back him back down and at of the mill. He was at least happy that he could help Dipper some.

Dipper tugged on Wirt’s sleeve on their way back. “Whoa, do you see that?” Wirt looked over to the side. There was a small clearing to the side of them where there was a perfect circle of mushrooms.

Both of their eyes widened. “Fairy rings – _cylch y tylwyth teg_ – are formed from elves and fairies. May result in fortune or misfortune, depending on the circumstances,” Dipper remembered from the journal.

“ _For weirdless day and weary nights, are his ‘till his deein’ day. And he who cleans the fairy ring an easy death shall thee_ ,” Wirt murmured. They both glanced at each other and then back at the ring. A mutualistic nerd connection quickly developed between the both of them.

“Let’s go!” Dipper grabbed Wirt’s hand again and jumped into the ring without hesitation. Wirt screamed. A hole opened up in the middle of the mushrooms and practically swallowed the both of them in. He had an excuse to scream. The ground was basically eating them.

Dipper felt a shiver of sadness resonate through him. He wished that Mabel was there with him. They would’ve certainly had fun together going on the riverboat and jumping through the ring. But Wirt made nice company also, and Dipper was content with him as his new co-explorer for the time being.

⁂

_It was only about a one-hour plane ride from the Valley to Piedmont, but to a seven-year-old it felt like it was taking forever. Dipper was upset that his parents had dropped everything and taken the sudden move, but it benefited his sister._

_His sister. Dipper was still getting used to that._

_After everything, she had received a new special sweater from the hospital and a bowl of alphabet soup from the airplane. Dipper was jealous. He only got potato soup. Nobody liked potato soup._

_“Dipper, look!” He didn’t want to look over at her alphabet soup. “Look, look!” He looked over. “You see this?” She held her spoon up towards him. The letters spelled out “M-M-A-B-L.”_

_“’Mabel?’”_

_“Yeah. This is gonna be my new name.”_

_“But that’s an old lady name.”_

_“No it’s not!”_

_“Yes it is!” He took the spoon from her and ate the letters._

_“Hey!”_

_Dipper smiled though. “I like it though. Mabel’s a nice name for you.” He loved his sister, and was learning to get used to her, but he was going to love her regardless. And now he had a new name to call her: Mabel. He loved Mabel and Mabel loved him back._

⁂

_The Beast took the book away from Wirt, but Wirt took the torn pages that had slipped underneath the bed and tucked them into his pocket. He kept his hand in the pocket and ran his finger along the edges of the paper. It wasn’t reassuring at all, but at least the Beast wasn’t angry with him anymore. He didn’t want anyone else to be angry with him anymore._

_Lorna smiled when she answered the door. She opened it up for Wirt. “Come in,” she said. Wirt was happy to do so._


	8. Wool

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Beast had only been stating the facts by saying that Wirt didn’t owe Dipper anything, but in some way he still felt a nagging sense of obligation towards him. He went to sleep on that thought, with the Beast fading away into the night.

Wirt learned that the underground of the Unknown was actually more breathtaking in a beautiful sense than a terrifying one. There were crystals jaunting off of the walls of the tunnel they found themselves in, and the glimpse of the afternoon sun made rainbows dance across the boys’ fingertips.

“You’ve never been down a fairy ring before?” Dipper asked. Wirt shook his head. He realized that his mouth was hanging open in awe of their surroundings and he promptly closed it. He moved to brush the dirt from off his trousers and then came to another realization – he was still holding Dipper’s hand. Neither of them commented on the handholding though nor let go of the other. They cautiously continued down the tunnel.

“So…” Wirt tried to formulate a question in his mind. “You got a girlfriend or anything?” Wirt wanted to smack himself. He just had to suddenly become a victim of the classic Freudian slip. Wirt could have sworn that Dipper squeezed his hand again.

“Nope. You?”

“Nope.”

“Cool.”

“Huh, what? How is that cool?”

“That didn’t mean anything. D-Don’t look into it.” Dipper let of Wirt’s hand and raced ahead. The crystals were growing more abundant and were clearly pointing towards something. The ground rumbled before the boys had time to investigate. Dipper was knocked off his feet and Wirt caught him before he could land flat on a crystal. Wirt let out an uneasy sigh as he helped Dipper back up. He did not need for his new friend to be impaled so soon.

The ground was opening up at the tunnel’s end. Wirt pulled Dipper against the wall, away from any crystals, and watched the ground.

“What is going on?” Wirt could hear the smile in Dipper’s voice.

“I’m the wrong person to ask.” He wasn’t sure if he was going to be able to handle another adrenaline junkie. The crystals began to shake also and turn red. Pink light painted the both of them. The earth stopped shaking. Wirt waited for his hands to stop shaking after he released Dipper.

“Have you seriously not been down here before?” Dipper’s tone was hushed, as if the slightest whisper would make everything come tumbling down.

“No. I’m not crazy enough to jump through holes in the ground.”

“So you really just sit around in a closet all day and play clarinet and read poetry?” Wirt had to turn away.

“I sleep and cry too, don’t forget that.”

“Aw. Well, uh, maybe we should go out together more often. You know what they say: jumping through a hole a day keeps the tears away.” Wirt gave Dipper points for trying. The hole in the ground filled with dirt again. Dipper sighed. “How anticlimactic,” he muttered. He walked over to the dirt anyway, bent down, and shifted his hand through it.

“You really think there’s something in there?” Wirt leaned down also. The new pile of dirt looked fresher. He dug his hands into it and felt something. It was smooth, hard as a rock, but not quite stone. Dipper was pulling items out of the dirt also. Whatever Wirt had grabbed a hold onto was proving difficult to get out. “Hey, could I get some help really quick?” Dipper felt down from Wirt’s hands and along the mystery item. They both pulled together until whatever it was finally loosened and came out. They brushed the dirt off of it and brought it towards the light.

“A statue?”

“Yeah. And it looks like…” Dipper held the bust up closer to the crystals’ light. The statue was rose colored and designed so that it appeared as though it was covered by a cloth. He looked closely at the veiled face. “The Virgin Mary?”

Wirt looked at it also. “It doesn’t have to be Mary. It could be anybody.”

“But Mary’s always in this pose. Head bowed down, facing downwards, wearing a veil.” Dipper pointed to the concealed face. He had to give to the sculptor. The statue was very realistic. Wirt rubbed his hands across the bust too to confirm that it was made of onyx, not human flesh.

“Yeah, I guess.” Wirt still couldn’t see it. “What else did you find?” Dipper carefully put the statue down and brought the other things he found to the light.

“I got a treasure box, a teakettle, and some creepy candles.” Wirt looked over the items also.

“This is the smallest treasure box I’ve ever seen.” It was barely bigger than the palm of his hand, peeling pink paint, and had a brass lock that required a six-digit combination to open. “Can you crack locks?” Wirt handed the box back and took one the candles. The one he had taken was red with a design of a skeleton on the glass.

“I like to think I can.” The things Dipper has done to unlock things. Dipper picked up the bust and the kettle. “Now, let’s go before the tunnel collapses or something.” Wirt felt that suffocating underground with a friend was better than watching a friend become decapitated by crystals before his very eyes or tearing a friend’s wings off and thus killing them.

⁂

Wirt had to stop Dipper from throwing the bust at Auntie Whispers. “What the hell is that?!”

“That’s Auntie Whispers!” Wirt stood in between them. He caught the bust before it could shatter on the ground and snatched the teakettle from Dipper’s hands. “Stop, stop! She lives with us!”

Dipper put down the candles. “What, she lives with you? Why?!”

“This must be the gentleman that Lorna has told me about.” Auntie Whispers moved away from the door to let them in. Dipper was still wary of her, but if Wirt knew her, then she must have been safe. It was hard to tell who and who was and was not a monster now and days.

“Lorna didn’t tell me about you though.” Dipper moved behind Wirt slightly.

Wirt laughed. The sound was obviously uncomfortable. “How was your trip Auntie Whispers?”

“This journey has proven to be as fruitless as the last. And my sweet child has fallen ill. I must create a remedy to alleviate the aching of her cranium and eat a late breakfast. Might I ask that you watch over her for just a moment?”

“Yeah, of course.” Auntie Whispers smiled a wide black-toothed grin.

“Thank you.” She walked towards the dining area. Dipper continued to watch her as he followed Wirt upstairs. She took picked up the covered bowl from the table and began to eat whatever was inside. Dipper hurried up the stairs.

They went to Auntie Whispers’ bedroom and laid everything out on the bed. They decided to look over papers from the Old Grist Mill first. On closer inspection, Dipper saw that they were unorganized notes in not only French and Latin, but Spanish, along with various scribbled out codes.

Dipper sighed. “I only know Latin, not French or Spanish.”

“Yeah, me too. I took it in high school.”

“Oh really? Me too.” The mutualistic nerd connection between them was strengthening. “For how long?”

“I only went to Latin II.”

“I took AP Latin.”

“You took AP Latin? Nerd.”

“You took Latin too!”

“Not AP.” Wirt laughed and shuffled the papers back in order. “Well, I took AP English Literature.”

“Who’s the nerd now?” Dipper checked over the teakettle. “Nothing special about this for now.” He handed it over to Wirt, but he refused to take it.

“I was going to major in English if I went to college.”

“Me too.” Dipper shook his head as he took the treasure box. “This is so weird. Don’t tell me that you have a twin sister and was in the process of owning your great-uncles’ shack too?”

“No. I don’t have any great-uncles actually. And I have a younger brother.”

“You never told me that. What’s his name?”

“Greg.” Wirt looked for another subject changer. “Hey, they’re some numbers on the paper. One of them might unlock the box.” He pointed out the scrawled dates on the pages. Their hands touched again as Dipper took the papers back. Wirt tucked his hands into his pockets.

“You know anything that happened March twentieth, 1986?”

“I think that’s the day I came here.”

“Weird,” was all Dipper could say. He entered “03-20-86” into the combination and the treasure box opened. There was a simple pink skull pendent inside. Dipper inspected it. Bill’s symbol was on the bottom. He wanted to crush the pendent. “I wonder who put all this stuff in the ring.”

“Wait, can I see that?” Wirt looked at the symbol on the skull. “I’ve seen this before.”

“Really? That’s Bill’s symbol right there.”

“Wasn’t Bill that dream demon that did the sleep-kill thing to you?”

“Yeah, yeah. Where’d you see the symbol?”

“It’s on the bottom of my lantern. I’m not sure if it was always there or not though. Sometimes the symbol gets larger and other times it’s not there at all.”

“Was it there the last time you checked?”

Wirt was not sure if he liked being interrogated. “The day before you came here the symbol took up the entire bottom of the lantern, but this morning it was completely gone.” Dipper held in the urge to squeal again. He hugged Wirt instead.

“We’re onto something!” Wirt personally felt like they were just sinking deeper into a pit of confusion, but he returned Dipper’s hug anyway. He had to force himself to let go. He hadn’t hugged another person in such a long time and Dipper gave nice hugs. He didn’t give an awkward pat on the back or a tight, suffocating embrace. His hands rubbed over his shoulders and upper back and Wirt was taken back to their dance on the riverboat. “Thank you so much for your help.” His tone was light, as if they were sharing a secret with one another, and he was all smiles when he let go of Wirt. Wirt focused his attention on the candles and not on the fact his cheeks were pinker than usual now.

“It’s no problem. I didn’t even do anything. You’re the one that found the fairy ring.”

“Bu—”

There was a crash downstairs. Wirt and Dipper dropped everything and rushed down. Auntie Whispers was standing by the doorway of Lorna’s bedroom. She stood frozen, in a daze. “Auntie Whispers, what’s wrong?” Wirt asked. Dipper was reaching towards the doorknob.

“My sister has returned,” she muttered. Wirt spotted a group of black turtles slowly scurrying away near a fallen bowl. Auntie Whispers must have been eating before the commotion happened.

A cool rush of air chilled Wirt’s bones. It was nearly pitch black in Lorna’s room, but Wirt could make out an outline through the darkness. It was a ghostly figure – Lorna, or Adelaide, or perhaps both.

The ghost turned to the both of them and howled a horrible noise. Out of the corner of his eye, Wirt caught Dipper smirking. He must have dealt with ghosts on a daily basis from the way he was looking.

“I’ll distract her!” Wirt stood in confusion for a moment. What was he supposed to do? And more importantly, why did Dipper trust him?

The door shut behind Wirt when he entered the room. The temperature was steadily dropping. He heard another scream and the ghost of Adelaide was in clear view. She looked more terrifying than before. Her skin was transparent and pale and her eyes had been replaced by large, gaping holes. She howled again and Wirt could see that she was holding a limp Lorna by strings.

 _Do something_ , Wirt’s mind screamed. What was Adelaide’s weakness? He thought of her house – he stayed at there at least once a month, he should know this. There were blankets everywhere, even over the windows. She was scared of the nightly air. That was how they defeated her the first time.

He felt along the wall of Lorna’s room. Dipper yelled out for Adelaide to focus on him, not Wirt. She screamed an ode of the banshees as she turned to Dipper. Wirt nearly tripped over his feet and his hands were starting to shake, but he couldn’t let Dipper down. He picked up the pace until he felt along the curtains. He quickly drew them and opened the window.

Adelaide screamed again. Wirt saw her coming full speed towards him, but her skin was slowly melting away the closer she approached. Wirt closed his eyes once the screaming intensified and he could feel skin dripping onto his arms. She managed to be vanquished in just the nick of time though. Wirt could have sworn that he could see Adelaide’s thread unraveling from around Lorna and reaching towards him.

Lorna tumbled to the floor. Wool surrounded her. Wirt hurried to her side. He touched her wrist. She was always cold. Her chest was still rising up and down with air. Wirt was relieved. He opened the door for Auntie Whispers to enter. He didn’t want to deal with the aftermath. Auntie Whispers didn’t say anything to him or Dipper as she passed by.

“You did a great job.” Wirt’s hands were grabbed suddenly. He almost retreated away from the other’s grasp, but he realized that his hands were still shaking. Dipper rubbed his hands over Wirt’s. “You did a really good job, understand that?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Stop putting yourself down. You’re great.” When Dipper began to rub his thumbs over the palm of Wirt’s hands, it was too much. Wirt had to pull away. “Goodnight. We’ll go over everything in the morning.”

“Goodnight,” Wirt nodded. He curled himself up into a ball in the corner of the closet. He traced over where Dipper had touched him, over and over until he fell asleep.

⁂

Dipper wasn’t sure if he could think of the mysterious man as “Old Scratch” now, and to also think of him as an incubus. Old Scratch most certainly had a connection with the Beast and Bill, but he wasn’t sure what. Despite this knowledge, Dipper let himself be pressed against the wall of the small room and have those infamous hands around his neck.

The hands disappeared suddenly and Dipper opened his eyes. The incubus, still silent, took Dipper’s jacket and began to tie it around Dipper’s neck. He sucked in a shuddering sigh in bliss and arched his back off of the wall when the knot tightened around the ball of this throat.

Dipper felt distracted though. Wirt was on the back of his mind, and he wasn’t sure why. He felt some odd sense of nagging obligation towards him. His back was flat against the wall again and his thoughts filled with the boy downstairs instead of seeking ecstasy. And Old Scratch was growing upset.

Dipper untied the jacket from around his neck and controlled his breathing. He could exit the dream at any time he wanted to, he thought. He just needed to find a way to wake himself up.

The incubus shook and trembled. The atmosphere grew cold in the room. The demon shifted and shook until he took a familiar shape – Wirt. Dipper frowned. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do, but he did know that his erection was beginning to harden. The emotion that the incubus was putting behind Wirt’s eyes and the way that the rosiness of his cheeks had spread across his nose made Dipper lose his breath all over again. He had to bite his lip and remember that this was not Wirt. It was just Old Scratch playing with his emotions.

Not-Wirt smirked and began to shake and tremble all over again. He grew in size until he took up the entire room. His eyes rolled to the back of his head and he ripped the skin off of his cheeks, revealing the bones of his jaw. A black substance left Not-Wirt’s mouth and landed nearby Dipper’s feet. A hole burned into the wood from the goo.

Dipper wasn’t scared. The incubus’ attempts to scare him were elementary at best. Dipper wasn’t (that much of) a crybaby anymore. It took more to scare him. He squeezed his eyes shut and willed himself to wake up. His efforts were successful for once.

He threw the bedcovers off. His chest was heaving. He wiped the sweat from off of his forehead. He had come to a frightening realization: he was attracted to Wirt. He closed his eyes and tried not to think about it too much.

⁂

Wirt was biting his lip also. “Spread your fingers slowly,” the Beast whispered in his ear. Wirt did as told. He slowly spread his thumb over the head of his cock and then massaged it in between his thumb and forefinger at the same steady pace. The Beast enjoyed careful, thoughtful displays – he almost had it to a fine art by then.

“Slower,” the demon whispered. Wirt could feel the skin on his lips break as he forced himself to move his length in and out the palm of his hand even slower. He could feel himself begin to unravel quickly despite his slow pace. Once the word, “Perfect,” was purred against his neck, he came instantaneously, but it was a bittersweet sensation. His body trembled and he moaned and the Beast breathed semisweet nothings against his neck and ear. He made himself smile slightly for show. He felt as if he was betraying someone in a way and he wasn’t sure why. Cum was leaking down his fingers and he should have been happy. There was feeling a gut-wrenching pain in his stomach instead.

“Do you actually feel as if you owe that obtuse stranger something?” The Beast laughed. Wirt softly chuckled also.

“I don’t,” he said. He scooped a towel from off of the floor to clean the cum from his hands and legs. Of course the Beast would return once Wirt began to grow closer to Dipper. The Beast never did anything without an ulterior motive.

“He will be leaving soon, and you will be at peace again.”

“Peace is nice.” Wirt threw the towel in the corner with the rest of his dirty clothes and lied down on his borrowed blankets from Adelaide. He tried to think about Adelaide’s ghost instead of Dipper, but Dipper continued to hang in the back of his mind. He wasn’t sure why. The Beast had only been stating the facts by saying that Wirt didn’t owe Dipper anything, but in some way he still felt a nagging sense of obligation towards him. He went to sleep on that thought, with the Beast fading away into the night.

⁂

Wirt’s seat was closer to Dipper’s in the morning. Lorna’s nose was red and she was swaddled in blankets over a bowl of turtle soup. Wirt and Dipper were focused on each other though. Wirt absentmindedly poured Lorna a cup of tea as he leaned in towards Dipper. “I hope that this doesn’t sound sudden, but I feel like I can trust you, if that makes sense.”

“I hope I didn’t give you a reason not to trust me. The tea’s overflowing.” Wirt huffed and cleaned up the spilled tea with a corner of the tablecloth and then passed the too-full cup to Lorna.

“It’s just that it’s hard to trust people here, especially for me.” Dipper patted Wirt’s back. He only knew how to express his affections awkwardly. Wirt didn’t seem to mind though. “I just feel like I don’t have a lot of people who have my back.”

“I got your back.” Dipper shrugged. “If you have mine.”

“I have your back.” Wirt smiled. It wasn’t for show.

“Why are you two discussing your backs?” Lorna asked. She sneezed into her soup.

⁂

_Wirt had expected his heart to tear out of his chest and for the entire world to stop spinning when Sara told him that she wished to end their relationship. She felt that they would never surpass the level of having a platonic friendship, but they could still depart on an amicable note. Wirt actually wholeheartedly agreed with her decision. They hugged. She offered him a pack of cigarettes, but he shook his head and told her that he was heading home and couldn’t risk smelling like smoke. He confirmed that he was still happy to hang out with her for his birthday tomorrow._

_He locked himself in his room. It wasn’t Sara’s fault that he was having a sexuality crisis. He found that he had been more attracted to Sara’s personality than her body. She was a gentle, vibrant soul, but he always got cold feet and backed out when the situation became heated. He knew that they had a problem when he fantasied about the boys’ locker room at night instead of her._

_He chose a random record and played it. He needed to distract his mind, but of course all of his songs were depressing anthems of agony that only pulled him further into the pit of despair. He felt overwhelmed. He was turning seventeen soon, he was growing more and more confused about his emotions, and he felt the pressure from his parents about graduation. He didn’t know what he wanted to do with himself._

_A song began to play from elsewhere. Wirt looked down at his record. He had listened to the album he played enough to memorize the order of the songs, but he did not remember the new song that he was hearing. It was a deep voice with vibrato – not his tastes. He took the record off and inspected it closer. The song was still playing. He looked around his room, out of the window. He was sure that no one in the house was playing any music or his neighbors._

_The song grew faint as Wirt tried to listen, but it sounded familiar. There was a knock on his door. “Dinner’s ready!” Greg announced on the other side. Wirt opened the door._

_“Listen,” he whispered. The song was still going. He couldn’t hear what exactly was being sung, but Wirt was confident that there was music playing from somewhere._

_“What am I listening to? Is this silent music? Mom told you not to spend your money on those strange records filled with adolescent angst from the corner thrift shop anymore, Wirt.”_

_“No. I don’t do that anymore. Just listen. I hear something.” The voice was still going. It was faint, but Wirt was sure that Greg would be able to hear it._

_Greg shook his head and shrugged. “I don’t hear anything. Let’s go downstairs. Mom made alphabet soup for me and potato soup for you.”_

_“Ugh, I hate potato soup. I got that last week.”_

_“This just shows that Mom cares about my nutritional well-being more than yours, sidekick.”_

_“You’re using a lot of big words lately. Do you even know what ‘adolescent angst’ or ‘nutritional well-being’ even mean?”_

_“’Nutritional well-being’ means how much you eat and ‘adolescent angst’ is your personality Wirt.”_

_“Yeah that’s r—wait, my personality? What’s that supposed to mean?”_


	9. Solace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’ll be fine. Go save your sister. She’s more important than me. I bet she’s waiting for you right now.” Dipper still wouldn’t let go. Wirt closed his eyes and let himself have this moment. It was probably going to be the last time he saw Dipper Pines.

Dipper and Wirt looked over the items they collected in the backyard, beneath Lorna’s window so Auntie Whispers could be assured that someone was watching over her. The boys spent the majority of the morning debating whether or not to light one of the candles.

The candles – red, white, and black – were spread out in between them; their skeleton patterns were all facing Wirt’s direction. Upon closer inspection, Dipper saw that there was text written in Spanish on the bottom of each of the candles’ glass, but it proved unhopeful also. If only things were written in Latin.

Lorna had lent them a lit candle in case they did decide to light one. Dipper held the small flame close to his chest and had the most intense look in his eye that Wirt found difficult not to notice.

“Maybe we should go with the white one,” Dipper murmured. He shifted his gaze to Wirt. Wirt quickly looked back down at the candles. It would be the worse to be caught staring, especially with the small crisis he had last night.

“Why?”

“I don’t know. It looks the newest.” He pointed to the skeleton on the glass. The design on the red candle look faded and had peeled off slightly on the black candle. Dipper shrugged and hovered the lit candle over the glass. “Should we go for it?”

Wirt shrugged too. “Let’s do it.” He lit the candle.

Once the flame touched the wick, pure, white flame shot up. Both of the boys were sent flying back. Sparks flew all around the both of them, until Wirt couldn’t even see Dipper anymore. He felt panic begin to plant a seed in his heart until the sparks suddenly died out. His eyes widened. He was in a new place. He hadn’t been in a new place in forever.

The first thing he noticed was the bright, heavenly skies above him. He had been used to the dreariness and constant rain and snow of the Unknown that he forgot what it was like to see a clear day, or even just sunniness. His skin felt warm instead of cold.

The first thing he heard was singing. It was a harmonious, lovely melody, but he had grown to dislike music. He looked around. There were clouds everywhere, and he even spotted a few rainbows. And then he noticed that animals and cherubs were coming at him, and he began to panic again, but they looked genuinely happy to see them, and Dipper was riding on the back of an elephant with a trumpet, so he guessed that it was okay.

A trio of cherubs in colorful overalls and teapots on their heads approached him. The wave of nostalgia was overwhelming. Wirt had to wipe his eyes before Dipper saw. Two of the angels blew into sousaphones and the other handed Wirt a too-large, too-creamy cake on a giant large silver platter.

“We are the Cloud City Reception Committee! ♪~” Wirt took the cake from them. It was actually pretty heavy. There had to be four, five, maybe six layers to the cake. All covered in rainbow sprinkles and much too much frosting. “And we welcome thee,” they sang.

The elephant that Dipper was riding on blew its trumpet. Out of the trumpet came a slip of paper and a few angels unraveled it to reveal that it was sign saying _WELCOME GREGORY’S BROTHER – WIRT!_ and Wirt nearly lost it then also. Greg had mentioned something about going to a Cloud City once. Wirt had taken it as some nonsensical dream, but now it was a reality.

A trio of women appeared also. They handed him a present. The box was so big that Wirt had to put the cake down in order to take it. “And we are the Cloud City Auxiliary Reception Committee! ♫~” They all smiled. “And we welcome thee,” they sang.

More musical eccentrics continued on and Wirt found himself smiling in spite of himself. Dipper found his way back to him through all the song and dance. They had to hold onto each other in order to not get separated in the crowd.

“What’d you get?”

“Huh?” Wirt looked down at the present he had received from the second committee. The box had wrapping paper the same color of the skies and an over-extravagant bow on top. He tore the box apart (and the monkey from the third committee might have stolen the wrapping paper before it hit the ground – it was hard to tell) and saw that they had given him a box with more skull pendants, a ceramic teacup, a few pages, and another bust. The bust was made of white onyx instead of rose.

“Whoa, more stuff?” Dipper took some of the items. “This is amazing! How many Mary’s do you think there are?”

“We’re calling these ‘Mary’s’ now?” Wirt shrugged in response to the question. “I hope not too many.”

“Yeah, me too, but I bet there’s a lot though.” A group of cherubs ran in between them and nearly broke the hold that Wirt and Dipper had on each other. “Wait, do you see that?” Wirt looked in the same direction as Dipper. The clouds had parted and a beam of light was flowing from the heavens above. The animals and angels were cheering and reaching theirs arms up as if to collect the light that was gracing them.

A woman transcended down from the light. There was something otherworldly about her. Wirt didn’t know how to describe it without using cheesy poetry quotes. Her dress was thread of cloud-stuff and there were literal birds swirling around her hair and just the right amount downy touched her cheeks so that Wirt didn’t feel alone.

She smiled. Warmth radiated from her and Wirt found himself gripping Dipper’s hand tight in anticipation. “You are Gregory’s brother, Wirt, I presume.” Wirt wordlessly nodded. It was like he was speaking to a goddess in the flesh. “I promised Gregory that I would grant you a wish also if you ever found your way here.”

“I get a wish?” A million thoughts raced through Wirt’s mind. “For whatever I want?”

She smiled sadly. Uh-oh. “Well, there are some limitations. But if you tell me what you desire, then I will try my best to make it come true.”

Wirt rummaged through his thoughts. He could feel Dipper staring at him, waiting to hear his wish. “C-Can I wish for two wishes?” Wirt was so nervous, it was embarrassing.

The Queen of the Clouds shrugged. “I guess I’ll grant that. Now you have two wishes, but that is final. No more wishing for wishes from now on.” She laughed a pure sound and the birds chirped along with her.

Wirt slowly turned towards Dipper. “What do you wish for?” He asked quietly. Dipper looked between him and the woman. Wirt could’ve used two wishes for himself, but he decided to give one away. Dipper didn’t know how to feel about the fact.

“I wish to know a way to defeat Bill Cipher,” Dipper blurted. The Queen nodded and waved her wand. A flash of sparks appeared and fell on the crowd. They awed.

“Can I wish to leave the Unknown?” Wirt asked. The Queen’s smile wilted again. He already knew what she was going to say before he asked.

“I’m sorry, but I cannot grant that, not for you.” Wirt nodded. He understood.

“I wish for Beatrice to come back to life.”

Her smile returned and she nodded. “That is something I can grant.” With another wave of the wand, sparks clouded Wirt’s vision and when he blinked he had returned back to Adelaide’s backyard, still holding Dipper’s hand and his box of goodies. He slowly let go of Dipper and set the box on the ground. Everything began to sink in.

Before Wirt could hesitate, he was running towards Adelaide’s house.

Wirt heard Dipper behind him, but his mind was focused on Beatrice. He had actually managed to save her. He had actually managed not to fuck up the situation for once. An overwhelming feeling that he couldn’t describe either took over his heart.

He opened up the tapestry so more light could seep into the room and looked at the jar. There was a bluebird fluttering around it – chirping. The feeling left his heart. She was still non-human. He slowly opened the jar anyway. The liquid mold seeped out, but the bird managed to escape. She flew straight through the window, happily tweeting the entire way. Wirt silently watched her from the window. Two other bluebirds hidden amongst the leaves came out of hiding and began to sing with her. They all preened each other, chirped, and spun around before they all took off into the sky together.

Wirt felt the jar fall from his hands and shatter onto the floor. The odd liquid puddled underneath his boots, but he didn’t care. He had managed to save Beatrice, yes, but not in the way that he would’ve liked. He wanted her to be human again. He was well acquainted with the snarky bluebird, but the girl with the fiery hair and the soft cheeks was a stranger, and now she would remain a stranger forevermore.

“I messed up again,” Wirt murmured. He leaned against the worktable. “It’s my fault that she’s like this. I-It’s my fault.” He choked back a sob. If anything, he didn’t want to cry in front of Dipper.

Dipper had nothing to say. He could only rub circles onto the others back to soothe him. Wirt never told Dipper about a “Beatrice” before and he had only mentioned his brother, Greg, once. There were so many hidden depths that came along with him that Dipper didn’t know where to start.

Wirt looked up suddenly. “Is that a phone?” Dipper looked over also. On the worktable, next to where the jar had been, was a white rotary dial telephone. Wirt sniffled as he picked it up. “’One call only,’” he read aloud. “Is this supposed to be your wish? How does this help you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I can call Grunkle Stan or Ford with this to help me.” Picked up the phone and looked it over. There were no symbols or anything else on it. Just a simple telephone. He shook his head and set the phone down. “No, they’re gone right now. Which must be really convenient for some people.” He looked over at Wirt. Wirt had turned back to the window and was drying his eyes. His fingers were tracing over the table. “Hey,” Dipper called out. Wirt’s eyes were still watery. Dipper could tell that he had been holding back tears since they were in Cloud City. “Maybe you should be the one to make the call.”

Wirt shook his head. “No, no. It’s your wish, your call. I already got my wish, or, uh, wishes.” Wirt wiped his eyes as he turned around and he picked up some blankets that had been thrown on the floor. “Let’s just cover it up for now so that nobody else uses it.”

“Good idea.” They folded the blankets on top of the telephone until no suspicious phone-shaped lumps could be detected through them.

Dipper looked out of the window for a split second. The bluebirds were long gone. “Could you tell me who Beatrice was?” Wirt gave him a look. “Never mind. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“No, it’s okay.” Wirt cleared his throat. “Well, Beatrice was a really great friend. She helped me the first time I came here. Actually, she tried to kill me at first, because she was a bluebird and she was trying to become human again, but she actually proved to be a really good friend and helped me escape. I’m actually the one that hurt her in the end.” Wirt looked down at his hands. “I accidentally got her turned into a bird again and I killed her trying to turn her back, so that’s why I wished for her to come back to life.”

“Oh okay.” Dipper didn’t know what to make of Beatrice. Wirt seemed to have been close to her and to his brother too. “And what about Greg?” Wirt shook his head. Greg proved to be a sore topic. Dipper wondered how he would feel if he was in Wirt’s shoes – never able to see Mabel again. He was halfway there now that he thought about it, but Wirt seemed to have given up all hope of ever seeing Greg or the real world again. His initial wish was to leave the Unknown, but he looked like he knew that the Queen wasn’t going to grant it. Dipper decided not to pry. He tried to comfort him all the way back to Auntie Whispers’.

⁂

Lorna had a blanket draped over her shoulders. Her nose was still red and she was preparing lunch. She handed Dipper a slice of bread and informed that he could eat in a moment. Dipper grabbed a lit candle before he went back out to the backyard with Wirt. They looked at their two remaining candles.

“Wanna light the red one?”

“Go for it.”

There were no sparks or white fire with the red candle. Only a simple burst of flame came, nothing else. “Is this one a dud?” Wirt reached over for the light and hovered it over the black candle. There was the sound of leaves crunching in the distance. They both looked up. The blind deer had returned. Wirt put the candle down and slowly stood up together.

“It’s not running away,” Dipper breathed. He slowly approached it. The deer only stood its ground. It seemed to be waiting for them. Dipper held his hand up towards the deer, but it only turned away and began walking towards the forest. Wirt hurriedly moved their things back inside through the window and followed also.

The scenery was peaceful and quiet – just what Wirt needed. He wanted to hold Dipper’s hand again, but he wasn’t sure if it would be okay. Dipper had initiated their previous handholding sessions, he felt unwelcomed for some reason, but Dipper seemed fine. He didn’t seem angry or annoyed with him. Maybe a little pitiful though, but pity was welcomed in Wirt’s world.

The deer stopped them once they reached the beginning of the river. There was small waterfall overtop of it. Wirt personally didn’t like the river and solemnly visited it. He wondered why the deer would lead them there.

“You know anything about this?” Dipper asked. Dipper was a naturally inquisitive person. He had a curious soul. Wirt felt nostalgic.

“Just a waterfall from what I know.”

“Let’s go behind it.” Wirt frowned. He couldn’t get wet, but he didn’t want to tell Dipper that. It would just make him seem weaker and give Dipper more things to worry about. He wrapped his jacket around his arms and followed behind Dipper. At least the water was calm today. It was earthy behind the waterfall and a splash of water managed to hit his boots, but not his skin. Wirt bumped into Dipper suddenly.

“Why’d you stop?”

“Look.” There was a door like opening etched into the earth behind the waterfall. Dipper pointed out a hole in the entrance. “You still have that teacup?” Wirt nodded and handed it over. Dipper carefully placed it inside of the hole. Perfect fit. He took it out as the opening gave way and revealed a cave.

There was a substance dripping from the roof of the cave. Dipper reached his hand out and caught it. He licked his finger. “Ugh, why would you eat that?”

“It tastes like honey.” Dipper licked his finger again.

“Oh my goodness, what if it isn’t honey. You don’t just eat stuff that you find in caves, that's gross.” Dipper wiped the remaining substance off on the side of the cave wall.

“Let’s just see what’s at the end of this cave.” Wirt nearly got a glob of honey on his head. “You know what, you’re missing out on this sap. It’s really good.”

“No thanks, I’m good. And what if it’s poisonous?”

“Oh well. I probably can’t get poisoned away. That’d be weird.” Dipper picked something off of the ground. “It’s another Mary, I think. And a note. Let’s go back out, I don’t think there’s any else.” Wirt was glad to leave the cave. It was just a sticky mess waiting to happen.

Wirt held the bust while Dipper read the note. The bust had a weird, orange cover to it. It had the same veiny pattern of the inside of an orange. There was honey dripping off the sides of the statue.

Dipper screamed suddenly.

“What’s wrong?!”

“This is Mabel’s handwriting.” Wirt looked over the note. The words were backwards and upside-down. “She wrote that we have to go back to my grave.” Dipper was getting way too excited. “Holy fuck, I get to leave! This is amazing!” Wirt didn’t want to rain on his parade.

“That’s great, Dipper.” He mustered up a smile. Dipper was already running from behind the waterfall.

“Do you know the quickest way back to the real world?” Dipper was wildly smiling and reading over the note again and again.

“Here, actually. Just a little up the river. We should light up the last candle though, before you leave.” Leave. It hurt Wirt to say it.

“Yeah. Maybe it’ll lead us to the last statue and then I could use them to contact Mabel or something.” He was already running back towards Auntie Whispers’ house. Wirt chose not to follow him. It would only hurt more. He had made a friend for a while. That was enough. The Beast said that peace would return to his life once Dipper was gone. But if Wirt didn’t want peace? What if he had found the perfect disturbance, and he didn’t want it to leave?

Dipper came back sooner than Wirt expected. He was holding a black bust. It didn’t take long for the black candle to lead to the last statue it looked like. Or Dipper had managed to find it without Wirt holding him back. Dipper had the pink and white busts also. Wirt took one from him and silently lead him up the river.

“This is it,” Wirt said when he stopped. He looked down at the water.

“Come with me.” There was a breathless quality to Dipper’s voice – again indescribable.

“I can’t. I can’t leave.”

“Why can’t you leave? You never told me why.”

“I just can’t.”

“Why not? I’m starting to feel like you never even tried to leave before.” Wirt sighed. He set down the statues and reached down towards his boots. He unlaced one shoe and slowly slid it off. He always wore two layers of socks for good measure. He removed them also.

“I did try to leave once. Maybe it was years ago, I don’t know, but I tried to jump through the river and this is what happened.” Each of his toes was wrapped in twine. He only had to unravel a little to show the damage. His toes were wooden, solid wood. “I only put one foot in and then I felt this horrible pain and when I looked I saw this.” He quickly put his socks and boot back on. “So, I can’t leave. I’ll probably just turn completely into a tree or something.”

Dipper was silent. He put down the statues and hugged Wirt for dear life. “I’m going to find a way to get you out of here, I promise,” he whispered against Wirt’s ear. Wirt trembled and held him back.

“I’ll be fine. Go save your sister. She’s more important than me. I bet she’s waiting for you right now.” Dipper still wouldn’t let go. Wirt closed his eyes and let himself have this moment. It was probably going to be the last time he saw Dipper Pines. He was going to leave the Unknown, be the hero he naturally was and save his sister, and then forget all about Wirt. The thought of Dipper being reunited with his sister and going on another adventure with her eased Wirt’s mind some. He stroked the back of Dipper’s neck before he moved to let go.

Dipper was still quiet. Wirt wasn’t sure whether or not to say goodbye to him. Dipper had said he would save him, but Wirt was positive that it was farewell for the two of them. “Bye,” he said quietly. He was horrible at goodbyes.

“This isn’t goodbye,” Dipper said. He looked determined, and maybe it reassured Wirt some and actually gave him the smallest ounce of hope that he just might be saved, but doubt returned and he had to let the feeling go. Dipper hugged him one last time before he looked down at the water. He could vaguely see his grave through his reflection. He held his breath as he jumped in.

There was a cold sensation, but it was gone as soon as it came. Dipper opened his eyes to find that he was in front of his grave again. There were dead flowers next to his gravestone. Behind him were the statues. Wirt must have dropped them in after he jumped.

He took the four statues and aligned them in a circle. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do next, if there were any chants or offerings involved. He felt uneasy too. What if he was summoning something horrible? It was too late to turn back. The statues were glowing and beginning to shake.

Darkness swept over him like a shadow. He looked up. Something was forming above the statues. Dipper took a step back. He had no way to defend himself if something bad appeared. He wished that he had brought a weapon or a journal page or anything. He had been so excited from the thought of seeing his sister again that he really hadn’t prepared for anything prior.

Smoke appeared. Dipper coughed and waved it from his face. Whatever he had summoned came down from the air. It was wearing robes and its face was veiled. For a moment he feared that it was Bill. He had absolutely no way to protect himself from Bill. He was surely a goner then and there.

The veil was removed. Dipper gasped. “Mabel?”

“Hi Dip-Dip,” she said sadly. Dipper hated it when his sister was sad. Without a second thought, he reached out for her, but an electric shock coursed through his body.

“Ah!” He had burned his fingers. “Mabel, what happened?” She turned away from him, but he saw. Her hands were skeletal, along with the right side of her face, just like the images on the candles.

“Bill happened.” She tried to laugh, but it brought the mood down.

“Please don’t tell me that…” She nodded her head. He didn’t even need to say it. “What did he say to you exactly?”

“’I’ll let you see your brother alive again if you hold some empty space for me.’” Dipper shook his head. So the Pines twins made another bad decision – nothing new. Now, how to get out of this one?

“You’re a demon now.” She nodded again. Mabel always had something to say, but not now. “H-Hey, do you have possession abilities?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t really tested anything out or anything. I spent this whole time trying to find a way to get back to you.”

“Well, now’s better than ever to find out. I was in this weird place, like this place where a bunch of lost souls go to, and this guy helped me. So, maybe if you possess him when he isn’t being possessed then we can help him escape.”

“Wow, I’m gonna need some backstory first. I have no clue what you’re talking about.” Dipper smiled.

“Just follow me. It’s not far.”

⁂

_Wirt watched the cold rain fall from outside of the window. He had covered Beatrice so that no water could seep through her jar. The weather was putting him in a melancholy mood. He jumped when he felt a hand touch his back. The Beast’s appearances were usually unannounced and Wirt hated that, but his heartbeat slowed down some when the hand traced along his spine._

_“It must be my birthday.”_

_“You have a birthday?” The idea of the Beast blowing out the candles on a birthday cake and in a room filled with streamers, balloons, and fun was absurd to Wirt._

_“Maybe. I personally find the entire idea stupid, but Enoch insisted that everyone deserved a birthday and marked today as mine.”_

_“Oh, okay. Why today?” It was so dreary outside; the perfect mood for the birthday of the Beast._

_“I thrive in the springtime and the rains bring snow, so from that logic Enoch made for my birthday to be today. Always during the first rainfall, especially when it’s cold. So it must be sometime in April also.”_

_“Out of all the months, April?”_

_“It always rains in April, according to him.” Wirt sighed._

_“Well, I didn’t bring a present. There’s an eyeball in the corner though. You can have that. I think it’s something you want anyway.” Sometimes Wirt forgot about the Woodsman’s daughter’s eye. He would come across it and nearly have a heart attack and then grow sad from the memory of why it was there. He was happy to get rid of it, but the Beast seemed like the only one who would like an eye._

_“What a perfect gift. Thank you. You never cease to be a kind and thoughtful soul towards me.” Wirt rolled his eyes. Of course the Beast would love it. "But do you know what I truly wish for though?"_

_"What?"_

_"A pair of tangible lips." Wirt was taken aback. He expected for the demon who spout more nonsense about forming a perfect world again._

_"Out of all things, you really just want lips?"_

_"Yes. I want lips to kiss you with." It was an understatement to say that Wirt was shocked. The Beast trailed his fingers along the outline of Wirt's lips as if he was in conscious thought. "And also teeth to properly bite you with." Wirt could only nod and stammer. He shouldn't have been blushing. He shouldn't have felt flattered, but couldn't help himself._

_The Beast began to hum a birthday melody, and Wirt wanted to cover his ears because it did not take long to find the Beast’s constant singing and humming to become annoying. But there were still fingers tracing circles along his shoulders and the heavy rain outside drowned out the sound some, so it was all right for now._

_The Beast never mentioned his "birthday" again._


	10. In the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the night, he heard the Beast calling to him. There might have been a worried undertone to the demon’s voice, but all he could feel was pure anger radiating towards him.

“Defrauded, I, a butterfly,” _Wirt muttered. He stuck a drying shirt to his clothesline with Adelaide’s pins._ “The lawful heir for thee,” _he recited. He subconsciously touched his forehead and his shoulders. There were no branches or antlers anywhere on his body. The Beast was gone. He could recite poetry and do laundry in peace._

_“Go to the river.”_

_Wirt jumped and dropped a clothespin. Speaking of the devil…_

_“What?” Wirt called out. He looked around. The skies were a murky mix of gray and black from last night’s thunderstorm. Darkness was all around. He preferred to do his chores at night. It helped distract his mind._

_“Go to the river,” the voice repeated. Wirt knew exactly where the river was. He traveled there almost daily just to look at the water, but he never did anything about it. He knew that he had to wait to escape. Another moment was going to come. Eventually._

_“Why?” Wirt slowly walked in the direction of the river._

_“Quickly go! A lost wanderer has arrived!” Wirt halted in his tracks._

_“No, you can do your own dirty work. I already helped you yesterday.”_

_“Will your mind change if I told you that this wanderer knows who you are, and is actively looking for you right at this moment?”_

_Wirt ran like hell._

⁂

Dipper took a second to thoroughly examine his sister’s new appearance once they entered the Unknown. It was growing dark, but it wasn’t hard to see what was different about her. He tried to reach out to her again and touch the skeletal side of her face, but another electric shock went through his arm. She winced also and turned away, facing him with the still human side of her face.

“You know, I tried to do what you do with me with him; saying a lot of encouraging stuff and touching him a lot and being open, but I don’t think it’s working. The guy’s got to have the lowest self-esteem known to man!”

Mabel laughed. “You’ve been talking about this guy for like twenty minutes straight. You must like him.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do!”

“No!”

“Yes!”

“What are we, twelve?” Dipper was smiling though. It was good to have his other half back. “Yeah, I guess I might like him. Just a little bit, not a lot though.”

“Sure.” Mabel rolled her eyes.

“But anyways, I’m worried about him. I wonder if he’s always been like this or if something happened here that changed him.”

“Maybe it’s a little bit of both. I don’t know.” A sudden wind chilled right through Dipper’s own bones. “He kinda sounds like you in a way, sorta, when you were younger.”

“Yeah. He actually does remind me of when I was younger a lot. It’s like I became a ghost and then met the ghost of my past.”

“Maybe Bill sent you here to reenact _A Christmas Carol_.”

“Nice theory. Best one I heard all day.”

“You’re welcome, Scrooge.”

“Thanks. Back to business now. You got the plan?”

Mabel twisted her lip and sighed. “Yeah, I get the plan. But I’m not too sure about this one, Dip-Dip. I have no clue how to possess somebody and I don’t wanna hurt him or anything.”

“It’s okay, you’ll figure it out. You can do anything, Mabel, literally _anything_. I mean, sending all of those statues and clues so I can summon you? Genius.” Dipper’s smile faded as his words settled in his mind. “I am so sorry, Mabel. I’m so stupid for putting us in this situation in the first place.”

“No sweat. Some things are just out of our control, like this. I know that it wasn’t your fault.” Dipper glanced at Mabel. She gave him an encouraging smile back, but wasn’t buying it. It was obvious – at least to him – when something was bothering her. And something was obviously itching at the back of her mind. Her smile was wavering, not steady.

“H-How did it feel? I think I stabbed you to death or something in my sleep.”

“It didn’t feel like prancing through the meadow, petting friendly unicorns, that’s for sure.” She laughed, but it was a dry sound. “I’m fine now, seriously. I don’t even have any cuts or bruises or anything. I guess you can say the only wrong thing is that half of my face’s gone and the little ‘demonic powers’ inconvenience, too.”

“Did it hurt when you transformed too?”

“The transformation sorta felt like I was on fire. If I knew what being on fire was like. You know? But the face thing still kinda hurts, but it numbed over by now.” She suddenly snapped her fingers. “Oh, I forgot to tell you! I took Bill’s – or yours or Bipper’s, I guess – tongue, so that’s why he ripped my face.”

Dipper’s jaw dropped. “Oh my god, how… what… why…?”

Mabel laughed again. “No big deal though. We’ll get it back. This is kinda cool too. I can just show up as myself for Halloween. Free costume!”

“Mabel, you’re unbelievable.”

“I know. I find myself hard to believe sometimes, too.”

They fell into a brief comfortable silence before they broke out into another nonsensical conversation, but it was enough time for Dipper to sink into “Wirt Mentality,” as he called it. He realized that he was the backbone for the worst days of his sister’s life. First, with almost leaving her to becoming Ford’s apprentice, and then killing her, resurrecting her, and demonizing her all in less than a week. Thank goodness for Mabel’s boundless imagination and resilience. If it wasn’t for that, she surely would have broken to pieces by then.

⁂

The moon was filling and Wirt’s temples were aching from the sensation of his fully mature branches settling in. He had already packed his things in heed of Adelaide’s home. Lorna had pulled him over at the start of dusk for one last cup of tea. Wirt’s nose automatically shriveled up upon first sip of the tea. Quincy Endicott was right – his health tea was disgusting, but it made Wirt oddly jittery and it was the only thing that he could consume.

Lorna sipped her own cup of tea and wiped her redden nose with the back of her dress sleeve. She still proved to be such a sickly girl. “Perhaps it is a good thing that he has left,” she murmured quietly. Wirt set his teacup down on its saucer.

“Why is that?”

“I am not sure. You seemed happy with him, yes, but the yearning look in your eye grew stronger whenever you gazed upon him. He seemed to just hurt you further instead of heal you. So, perhaps it is a good thing that he has left.”

Wirt tapped his fingers along the saucer, and then brushed the leaves from off the table. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” First the Beast, and now Lorna. He seriously didn’t think that Dipper was all that bad. Even though they knew each other for a short amount of time, Wirt felt a deep connection with the other that he couldn’t explain. He longed for Dipper to come back, but he had given up hope when a long week had passed by with absolutely no sign of the paranormal-obsessed twin. At least a little bit of comfort could be brought to Wirt’s mind when he imagined Dipper smiling and having fun with his sister again. That was all that mattered.

Wirt drank the rest of his tea and bid Lorna adieu before he headed to Adelaide’s house. He quickly learned that Dipper had thrown things askew in the Beast’s routine.

When Wirt lay at night, forced on his back due to the branches, and staring up at the ceiling, he was forced to listen to the Beast whisper ugly things into his ears.

“The Stranger is gone. Good riddance to him.”

“He never did anything but bring harm to you. You cried on multiple occasions around him. Experiencing such negative emotion must not be good for the soul.”

“Did the Stranger ever really care about you?”

“A fortnight has almost gone by, and where is the Stranger? Still gone.”

“I almost couldn’t contain myself from laughing at that flimsy promise he made you. Of course he’s not coming back for you. He’s just telling you what you want to hear. Hope is such a wonderful feeling, isn’t it? And I can feel it draining out of you by the second.”

Wirt tried to pulled the blankets up over his head, but it didn’t help at all.

“Tell me, has he ever touched you like this?” Wirt felt hands palm over him through the blankets. He bit his lip and sighed. He could at least try to not give the Beast satisfaction for once. “Can he even touch you like this? He doesn’t know your body like I do.” The covers were pulled down and fingers traced along the buttons of Wirt’s nightshirt. “He never even gave you the chance. Such a shame. Such a waste.”

“S-Shut up.” Wirt’s shirt was slowly being unbuttoned though. He let out an uneasy breath once he felt the Beast trail his fingers up and down the length of his stomach and chest, as if he was drawing the outline of his body to memory.

“No, I won’t be quiet. You deserve to know the truth.” The fingers trailed over his legs also. “Tell me, what was his name again? I forgot.”

Wirt’s thoughts had been muddied and jumbled ever since the Beast first began to whisper to him. He dug deep into his mind, thinking of the name, the “he” that they were constantly talking about, but he forgot. His mind jumped to focus when he felt the buttons of his pajamas become undone and a hand cup and massage over the bulge of his boxers. He moaned instead of giving a name.

“I-I don’t remember,” Wirt finally answered. He leaned into the Beast’s touch, but the demon seemed to be backing away. It wasn’t uncommon for him to leave him high and dry, but damn was it frustrating.

“The Stranger,” the Beast purred. He undid Wirt’s underwear.

“The Stranger,” Wirt repeated. He closed his eyes and let out a shuddering breath when he was finally squeezed, stroked, pleasured. He arched his back off of the blankets and moved to the rhythm of the Beast. He sometimes wondered when and why this little arrangement of theirs occurred, and then when he remembered their first time together he would blush and drive the sad thought out of his mind.

The Beast stopped again when Wirt’s cock was rosy and straining against his belly. He opened an eye and looked up at the Beast. Two white, unmoving eyes met his in the darkness. Formally, fear would strike his heart at such a sight, but now only confusion and a hit of frustration – both sexual and emotional – was flowing through him.

“Answer honestly: did you love the Stranger?”

Wirt was quick to shake his head. “No, I guess not. I’m not even sure who we’re talking about anymore, to be honest.” The eyes tilted slightly, a sign that the Beast had cocked his head.

“You really have forgotten the Stranger? He was your one and true companion. You two went through thick and thin together. You two were like two seeds in a milkweed.”

“I really don’t know anymore. You don’t have any memory erasing powers or techniques, do you?”

“Not that I know of.” There was an audible smirk in the Beast’s voice. He still hadn’t moved. Wirt moved his hands down and finished the job himself. He slowly rubbed the head of his cock, just as the Beast liked, and moved down his length and stroked it in and out of his hands. The Beast’s hands traced over his arms and legs, nothing but light touches, and his eyes moved down to watch Wirt.

“You are very quiet. You whisper your pleasures, as if you’re scared that someone is listening to you.” Wirt quickened his speed ever so slightly. He could feel pressure building up in the pit of his stomach. He bit his lip again to stop a particularly loud moan from spilling out and felt himself come onto his fingers and stomach. He groaned and felt his body tremble against his cocoon of blankets. He felt warm and oddly safe during times like those. Maybe that’s why he continued to be intimate with the Beast, even after all the ways that the demon had put him through, because he craved the feeling of false protection that he received in return.

He wiped the cum from off of his body and the Beast continued to whisper to him about this “Stranger” again. He seriously tried to think about who the Stranger was, but there were too many blank spaces. There had been gaps in a lot of his memories lately. He received the feelings of nice, warm, friendless whenever he thought of the Stranger, but he wasn’t sure what the man looked like or how he sounded like. He craved cigarettes sometimes, but he long forgot what they tasted like. He wanted his kid brother, but he nearly forgot what Greg looked like by then. He wanted Beatrice, but he forgot what her voice sounded like.

He went to sleep before he could let his thoughts settle in too deep. Dreams from post-coital bliss were usually the sweetest for him.

⁂

Wirt couldn’t help but be anxious whenever he reached the point of full transformation with the Beast. No matter what, he would never get used to sharing and relinquishing his body to someone else. The Beast whispered small comforts aloud to soothe him until Wirt was relaxed enough to really sit back and let the demon really take the reins.

A light snow was falling and Wirt’s boots crunched over the newly white ground. Snow still made him nervous also, but the Beast was wearing clothes now, so frostbite was (thankfully) no longer an issue between the two of them.

“There are lost wanderers awaiting in the wood,” the Beast announced. Wirt could feel himself grow nervous again. He never knew what to expect whenever there were lost wanderers.

⁂

Dipper told Mabel to wait behind when he returned to Auntie Whispers’. He just didn’t want to cause any stress towards the women, especially after all the help they have given him. He saw what happened when Lorna had been possessed. They were most likely not fans of apparitions.

Lorna shook her head and said, “Wirt left two weeks ago.” Dipper frowned. He had only been gone for a few hours at the most, and about fourteen days had already passed in the Unknown? “He is in Adelaide’s home now.” She solemnly gave directions to the house. It was growing dark by then, and Wirt’s words about not traveling at night echoed through Dipper’s head, and he thought about staying with Lorna for the night before traveling, but he continued on anyways. He didn’t want to waste any more time. Wirt probably thought that Dipper went MIA for two weeks.

“It took me a moment to really figure out that it was Bipper and not Dipper. He had Stan and Ford and everybody else for sure, but I think it’s because he altered time or something, so they think that it’s been him all along.”

“That makes sense. You used the secret question, right?”

“Right, but he learned it for Ford and Stan, so that sunk some of their suspicions, enough to take him back to Piedmont. He got better at acting like you and even got contacts so that his eyes weren’t yellow anymore. Oh, and he started wearing sort of normal clothes too.”

“Yeah, when we struck a deal, he said he’ll alter time so that people wouldn’t remember that I killed you or… your funeral.”

“I don’t even wanna ask what happened there.”

“I don’t want to talk about it either.”

As they walked, a light snow began to fall. Dipper had the feeling that it would grow heavy soon. The winds blew, but there was another sound. The twins stopped to listen. Snow piled on Dipper’s shoulders. There was a song echoing through the wind, sung by a deep, bellowing voice.

“Should we follow it?” Dipper asked.

Mabel stood in front of him. “Obviously, we follow it.” It was unusual to his sister wearing such dark clothing, but it seemed to be keeping her warm enough.

“Can I have one of your robes? It’s getting colder by the second.”

“Oh sure. Now we can both be two creeps in the woods traveling through the darkness wearing robes.” She took a thicker layer off and handed it to him, being careful not to touch his skin in the process. Dipper put his arms through the sleeves and wrapped it around himself like a blanket. He was feeling warmer instantly.

The singing grew louder. Something was approaching them.

“Wirt!” Dipper called out. Wirt stopped. Dipper stopped also. He looked exactly like the second sketch on the journal page: fully grown antlers, branches wrapped around his shoulders, and the wicked grin. His eyes flashed red before he continued walking. There was an axe and a lantern in his hands.

“Two more souls separated from their physical forms,” Wirt said. His voice sounded hollow. Dipper didn’t know how to describe it. He backed behind Mabel. “A rarity for me. I usually come across singular people. Pairs are uncommon, and groups are practically nonexistent.” He moved closer to them. His eyes flashed red again. “I couldn’t waste such an opportunity again.” He threw the axe at them. Mabel ducked Dipper down. He felt a shock go through him, but it was better than getting an axe in the head.

“Run!”

“Already on it!”

Dipper risked a look back. Wirt had picked up the axe again and his eyes were a flashing a multitude of colors: red to green to blue to yellow. Dipper caught them turning back to normal, briefly, and there was a crack in his demeanor. Wirt was still in there, somewhere. Dipper had to find him.

“Wirt!” Dipper yelled out. Wirt was running after him now. Dipper picked up the pace. Mabel had already made it far ahead of him. “Wirt, it’s me! It’s me, Dipper! C’mon!”

“Silence!” Wirt yelled out. His voice was grave. It sent chills up Dipper’s spine.

“Wirt, it’s me, it’s me!” He was still chasing after him. Dipper was getting frustrated and a little heartbroken. He was hoping that Wirt was just not in control of his mind, but if Wirt was perfectly conscious and was allowing for everything to happen – then that was where the heartbreak came from.

“Remember when we went through the fairy hole? And when we danced on the riverboat with the frogs, and in Cloud City too?” Dipper ducked down when he saw the axe flying at him again. It impaled a tree. He could’ve sworn that he heard the tree groan in pain. “Wirt!”

Wirt focused through his eyes again at the sound of his name. He watched the scene that was unfolding before him. There were times when the Beast chased after people, but those were only occasional. And the wanderer was calling out his name.

“Who is that?” Wirt asked.

“More stupid children,” the Beast hissed.

“Wirt, it’s me!” Wirt really focused in. There was only a select amount of people that they could’ve been chasing after. Wirt didn’t know a lot of people.

“Who is that?” Wirt repeated.

“No one of importance.”

“Wirt, it’s Dipper! Stop!”

It suddenly clicked. The Stranger was now familiar.

Sometimes Wirt tussled with the Beast for controlled. He always lost, but there were times when he grew instances of control, but they never did anything. Today was his moment. He fought with all he had. The Beast was resisting with full force.

“Why do you care about him so much? What has he done for you?” The Beast was shaking with anger. Wirt’s vision turned red and suddenly he was thrown on the ground. He had complete control over his body again. The antlers and branches were gone. He scrambled to get himself off of the snowy ground and back on his feet. “He’s just a stranger who imposed on you! He has ruined everything I’ve done for you, everything we have done together.”

“He didn’t do anything wrong!” Wirt was knocked back off his feet, onto his back. The trees’ branches were bending down towards him and the Beast was leaning over him. He was still shaking with pure anger.

“You must be blind to not see the turmoil he has put you in!” Branches swung down and wrapped around Wirt’s ankles, his arms, his neck. “You wouldn’t be in this situation if it wasn’t for him!” Sticks scratched his exposed skin and dug into the skin of his neck. The branches all let go suddenly. “Excuse my moment of idiocy.” Wirt was dropped back onto the ground – hard. The wind was knocked out of him. “Harming you will bring me nowhere.”

“I thought you already knew that,” Wirt choked out. He pushed himself onto his arms and wheezed for his next breath. Panic seized his heart when he felt a branch hook onto the back of his jacket. He was picked up again, so fast that his head began to spin. He wanted to vomit. “Remember… remember last time?”

“I remember.” The branch brought Wirt closer to the Beast’s eyes. He shriveled back. His moment was gone. “I no longer care though.” A branch suddenly hit him in the nose and he was dropped again. He lost consciousness when his head banged against the ground.

⁂

A frozen blanket of snow covered Wirt. He shook the snow from his face as he shakily made it back to his feet. His head was pounding and the world was spinning, but he couldn’t stay in one spot. He touched his nose again. It wasn’t broken – at least, he didn’t think it was – but it was bruised and numb, and there was a bloodied spot in the snow where he had lied. It must have bled when he was out cold.

Wirt wrapped his arms around his body in a measly attempt to comfort himself. His lover was warm just a few days ago, and now things had grown cold today.

“Wirt!”

Wirt turned around. The voice was calling him from the other direction. He had been led astray the past week, but now he knew the way to go. He gathered his bearings and walked towards the voice.

“Dipper!”

⁂

In the night, Dipper heard Wirt calling. He ran in the direction of his voice. Mabel swooped down next to him suddenly. “There’s too many trees, can’t see anything from above. But I can tell that he isn’t possessed anymore right now. I don’t feel any demonic presences or whatever around.”

“That’s good! Let’s hope he isn’t hurt or anything.” Wirt suddenly stopped calling out. Fear struck the air.

“Wait. I feel two presences right now.” They both stopped in their tracks. Dipper could feel his heart drop. “Don’t worry, Dippin’ Dot, I got you.” Dipper looked up at Mabel. The last thing he saw was her smile (uneasily) before darkness engulfed his vision suddenly.

“Mabel!” Dipper couldn’t believe that he lost her again. A sudden light came on overhead of him. He looked up. It was a simple bulb coming out of nothingness, swaying slightly to nothing. Something else shiny came down. Knives. Dipper covered his head and hurriedly ducked out of the way of them. Knives fell onto the floor in a circle formation. Silver helium balloons rained down also.

Dipper sighed. He picked up a knife and popped a balloon. A note fell out.

It read: _I’m going through with the plan now_ , in ever so familiar, loopy handwriting. Dipper hurriedly popped the rest of the balloons and read all of the notes side by side.

_You want me to get you a razor? Because your beard’s growing in and I’m not sure if Wirt digs the whole lumberjack-who’s-been-lost-in-the-forest-for-one-hundred-days-and-hasn’t-eaten-for-eleven-nights look._

_Yeah, I’m getting you a razor whenever I get the chance._

_Back on topic: you’re going to be stuck in this ‘in-between place’ for a little while now and I’m pulling a lot of strings to make Wirt come along. I’ll bring you updates on how everything’s going. Isn’t it cool that I can write notes with my mind? I think it’s awesome._

_I love you!_

Dipper stuck the last note in his pocket.

⁂

_Wirt unstuck a clothespin that managed to stick to his side as he ran to the river like the voice had directed him to. In the night, he heard the Beast calling to him. There might have been a worried undertone to the demon’s voice, but all he could feel was pure anger radiating towards him._

_Wirt could see the river right ahead. He just needed to get away from the trees, but he could feel branches beginning to wrap around his shoulders._

⁂

Dipper was growing more and more anxious by the second. Mabel enabled more lights in the “in-between” location. The blue lights shined all in one angle and Dipper could see the silhouettes of his sister and the Beast fighting with an unmoving Wirt in between them. All he could do was sit, wait, watch, and hope.

He inevitably grew emotional. Watching Mabel fight for Wirt made him realize that he and his sister were constantly at tug-of-war over who was the most protective. When they were in their pre-teen years, it was him, but now he saw that it was obviously Mabel who was the stronger one. She was willing to help Dipper without any explanation or hesitation, even after everything he had done to her.

He stopped himself from getting all teary-eyed though. Crying wasn’t going to solve anything. Every second was crucial.

⁂

_It was Wirt’s moment and some tree branches were not going to take it away from him. He jumped into the river without hesitation. Only his foot managed to get into the water. Pain shot through his toes immediately. A branch managed to hook into the back of his jacket and pulled him up before he could jump into the lake._

_“You asinine child!”_

⁂

The lights faded and the fighting stopped. Dipper sprang back to his feet. A balloon came down. He hurried to pop it.

_Something happened._

His heart sank. Another balloon came down.

_I’ll take you to where Wirt is._

More lights came. They lit a tunnel through the darkness. Dipper hurried to walk down it. He heard a loud whistle. There was a light at the end of the tunnel and it was leading to a train. He jumped down onto the train. It was certainly a change of scenery.

He was in the front of the train, where the conductor was. He was behind the train driver and the windows showed that they were traveling through darkness itself. From behind, he could see that the conductor looked to be an older man. He was wearing a blue topcoat and a sweater. On a small table beside him there was a tea set and a book of complete poems by Emily Dickinson.

The conductor was humming a sweet tune, as if Dipper wasn’t there. Dipper shifted from foot to foot and cleared his throat.

“Ooh, are you a new passenger?” The man’s voice was soft and soothing.

“Yeah, I guess. I think I am.”

“Well, that’s good. Could you please go into a sleeping car? It’s after curfew.”

“Yeah, I’ll go. Thanks?”

“Have fun riding on the Eternal Garden Branch Line!” The man heartily chuckled and began to hum again. Dipper turned to the exit of the car, but he stopped first.

“Who are you?”

“I’m the Conductor.”

“Well, yeah, but you aren’t gonna do anything bad to me, right? I think I dealt with enough assholes for now.”

“I’m a really nice guy. Don’t worry about me. Now, head on to the sleeping car before curfew. It’s just the next car over for your convenience.”

“Thanks, again.” Dipper left.

There were strange sights in the windows: lights and faces, but there was a shower in the corner and beds all around. Only one of the beds was occupied. Wirt was sleeping soundly, tucked into the blankets. His face was scrunched up. He must have been in the middle of a nightmare. Dipper creepily stroked his face until Wirt’s expression changed, and then hit the showers.

⁂

_Wirt was sinking in humiliation. He was tied to the bed back in Adelaide’s – a “punishment” from the Beast. Wirt could have sworn that it was the Beast who told him to go to the river, but the Beast insisted that he had done no such thing._

_He was tied to the bed all night and into the morning. He was woken up whenever he fell asleep. In the morning, he was exhausted and… uh-oh. Wirt squeezed his thighs together._

_“Uh, can you untie me please?”_

_The Beast’s eyes peered at him through the house’s darkness. “No. Your punishment is not yet over.”_

_“B-But—” Spasms of desperation were overriding his senses. He was reaching his limit. He thought that he could hold in it all night._

_“But what?”_

_“I-I have to use the bathroom.”_

_“That sounds like a serious issue. What shall we do about it?”_

_“Just untie me and let me go outside really quick, please.” His bladder wasn’t going to last that much longer._

_“That is not an option.” The Beast disappeared. Wirt felt a gush of warmth soak the front of his pants. He was beyond humiliation now._

_“No, no, no…” It was happening. He let a desperate little gasp out as he emptied his bladder. He was eighteen, too old to be pissing the bed, but here he was. He felt his urine sink down into the blankets and down the sides of his legs. He leaned his head against the wall and sighed. Whether it was a sigh of relief or despair, he couldn’t tell._

⁂

Wirt woke up drenched in a cold sweat. He was still on the train that Mabel had taken him to. He was still in the bed and there were still lights flashing through the windows. He looked around and saw that Dipper was fast asleep in the bed beside his. Wirt lied back down. He felt out place. He was over being confused, and at least Dipper looked safe, but he was separated from his sister again.

Wirt slowly went back to sleep, listening to Dipper softly snoring.

⁂

“Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul,” _Wirt muttered. He hung up his now clean pants and blankets up to dry._ “And sings the tune without the words and never stops at all.”

_“Thanks for obeying me.”_

_Wirt jumped and dropped a blanket. It landed in a pile of dirt. He huffed and picked it up. Now he had to wash it again. He decided not to answer to the odd voice again. He didn’t need to get in trouble again._

_“Here’s your reward, kid.”_

_A book was thrown at him. It landed in the blankets. Wirt looked around him. There was no one. He picked up the book and nearly dropped it. It was a poetry book, complete with poems by Emily Dickinson. He shakily opened the cover._

Happy birthday, Wirt! Love, Greg.

_Wirt didn’t so much as read any poems in the book (he had already memorized them all). He just read the note from Greg over and over again, and held the book close to his chest as he slept. When he awoke the next morning, it was gone._


	11. Froot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Forget about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ♡ **11/09/15** : the story has now been edited so that _italicized_ text (i.e. dreams and flashbacks) will be separated from the main/present story. ♡

_Wirt always dreamt in black and white._

_It was a peculiar thing that he thought was normal in his childhood, until his mother once described a vivid nightmare to him about blood red lipstick stains and his kid brother always babbled about dreams that could better be described as the classic junkie’s acid trip._

_But while his family dreamed in color, Wirt dreamt only monochromatically._

_He could see the sunlight’s gray rays shining upon his skin. He was wearing a (seemingly) white sweater – clean and crisp – and he could feel that his hair was neatly combed back. He was in a meadow. Flowers blossomed in various shades of black, white, and gray as he sat in the middle of it all. He gave a soft sigh. Peace at last._

_“Wirt!” Wirt turned around. Fear groped at his chest. He didn’t want another nightmare. “Hey, Wirt!” Wirt’s eyes widened and he scrambled to his feet._

_“Beatrice!”_

_He leapt over a pool of water (with a basin, towels, and plates of fruit by its side – but he could investigate that later) and ran to Beatrice._

_She was no longer a bluebird nor was she frozen in time inside of a jar. She was human and well again. The rosiness to her cheeks and hair had returned, and she was wearing a long white dress akin to his sweater. Her hair wasn’t piled atop her head, but in fiery waves across her shoulders and back. She looked so happy and free, but above all she looked alive. Wirt choked back a sob. It was only a dream._

_He didn’t care if it was only a dream, though. He stilled wrapped his arms around Beatrice, giving her a proper hug that he never managed to give at their reunion. He squeezed her and even spun her around._

_“Whoa now, Wirt, put me down. Neither of us are gonna be happy if you keep spinning me around like this.” Wirt laughed and set her down. Her feet were bare and he caught her toes curling into the dewy, gray grass before her dress covered them._

_All Wirt could manage to say was a simple: “It’s so nice to see you again.”_

_“Can’t say the same for you. You know how normal my life was before and after you showed up?” The widening grin on her face showed what she really meant. She was happy to see him too. “What’re you up to?”_

_“I don’t know. I have no clue what’s going on. I, uh, I think I’m on a train? I’m not too sure.” Beatrice sighed and rolled her eyes._

_“You’ve always been Mr. Observant, haven’t you?” She crossed her freckled arms together and looked off to the side. “You’re gonna find him. Don’t lose hope, Wirt.” She smiled again, but the look was bittersweet. “I believe in you.”_

_Wirt shook his head and looked down at his hands. “B-Beatrice, I’m so sor—”_

_She placed her hand over his mouth. “No, shut up. I’m talking about Greg, not me. You better find him again, because if you don’t then I will personally figure out to become a ghost and haunt you forever.” The memory of Adelaide nearly possessing Lorna came to Wirt’s mind, and he shivered at the thought. Beatrice haunting him was somehow a scarier thought._

_He nodded and shook her hand off. “I’m working on it, the ‘hopeful’ thing. Hopefully, it’ll work out.”_

_She winked. “It will. Trust me.” A train whistle blew overhead. Wirt jumped and looked around. He didn’t see any train tracks nearby. When he turned back to Beatrice, she was gone._

_“Beatrice!” He spun around again, looking for her. Pure whiteness covered his vision suddenly, and he was out of the nice meadow and into the woods, shivering, in the middle of an impending snowstorm. There was lantern in his left hand and an axe in his right. Wirt nearly dropped both of the objects in the snow._

_What didn’t scare Wirt was the memory of how he had been lost in the snow again and again, or the dark secrets of the lantern and axe, but the fact that he could see the brown wood of the axe and the yellow candlelight of the lantern, and the golden buttons on his jacket._

_In hindsight, he thought that it was a weird case of poetic justice of how the dream of his death would be in color._

⁂

Wirt awoke with an aching in his side. It took a moment for him to realize that the real world was indeed in color and wasn’t filled with flowers and sweet girls. He slowly arose and rubbed his hands over the side of the bed to see what had been hurting him. It was the teacup. He forgot that it was in his pocket.

He absentmindedly looked over the cup as the rest of his body began to wake up. It was still perfectly painted white, like the clouds of Cloud City. He looked inside of the cup and was surprised to see blackness. He held the cup up to the windows’ light to see inside of it properly.

_Forget about it._

Wirt raised an eyebrow. He wasn’t sure if the cup always had writing inside of it or not, but the message was oddly chilling, being written inside of a cup filled with happy memories and in large, bold, angry penmanship.

Wirt set the teacup back down on the bed and stood up. It was pleasant change to sleep somewhere that wasn’t a dead witch’s bed or a closet floor.

Dipper was still steadily sleeping in the next bed over. Wirt smiled to himself as he shook the other man awake. Dipper startled awake, but he instantaneously calmed down when he saw that it was only Wirt. “’Morning.” He started to get out of bed also. Wirt’s nose twitched. Dipper smelled like soap and water, and his clothes were cleaner. He was wearing a white sweater, similar to the one in his dream.

“Yeah, good morning,” Wirt slowly said. He brushed his confusion away. “So, do you know where we are?” Dipper shrugged.

“No clue.” He devilishly smiled. “And that’s what makes it so exciting!”

“Of course.”

“C’mon, I’m dying to know what’s in this train. The Conductor made me go here since it was ‘past curfew.’ I didn’t really get to see anything.”

“You met with the Conductor? I didn’t see anybody. Just your sister when she transported me into the sleeping car.”

“Oh yeah? He seems harmless, but you never know these days.” Dipper shrugged. He nonchalantly grabbed Wirt’s hand as the left the car. Wirt fought back the urge to be flustered. He was a ten-year-old girl when it came to these things. Sara knew that very well.

“H-Hey, where’d you get a shower?”

“Uh, there was one in the car. See?” They turned around and opened the door again. The beds were all gone, replaced with seats. The windows no longer displayed faces and lights either, but a warm sunlight was peeking throughout, shining upon the rows upon rows of empty seats. Dipper frowned and Wirt bit his lip. “Never mind, I guess…”

“Well, what about the Conductor?”

“He was this way.” Dipper led Wirt to the front of the car. The door just opened up to reveal more seats. All still empty, all still soaking up the sun. The seats were hot when Dipper brushed his fingertips against them. “Well, he _was_ this way.”

The train pulled to a stop. Dipper held onto the hot metal of the seat to stop Wirt from flying off to the side of the locomotive. Doors materialized behind them and opened. So, they were on a magical train with surprises behind every door – nice.

An intercom cackled overhead of them. “Welcome to the Pasture!” The Conductor’s voice was as cheery as Dipper remembered it being. “You will be called back onto the train in approximately two hours. Enjoy your visit!” They could hear the man hum briefly before the PA system cut off. There was another look on Wirt’s face. Dipper grew concerned.

“Is there something wrong?” Wirt’s lips were tightly pressed together and he was (subconsciously) squeezing Dipper’s hand tightly. “Wirt?”

Wirt was taken out of his reverie by the call of his name. He loosened his grip on Dipper’s hand. The other was slowly stroking his thumb in soothing circles across the back of his hand. Wirt didn’t pull away this time. He wondered what enticed Dipper, what force pulled them together. Whether it was fate or coincidence, destiny or science, Wirt was grateful that he had Dipper in his life now.

He smiled, wholeheartedly, and shook his head. “I’m fine. It’s just that that voice sounded familiar for some reason, but it’s whatever. Let’s go see what this ‘Pasture’ is all about.” A little bit of worry for Wirt was edged off of Dipper’s shoulders.

⁂

_It took a moment for Wirt to get over his initial of shock of having his first colored dream. He helplessly looked around again. Beatrice and the meadow were gone, and he assumed that the train was also. When he turned back, the blind deer was in front of him. It looked like the deer was a buck after all. Antlers grew high on the now taller animal. It was still a scrawny creature, but it stood with its chest puffed out, exerting confidence._

_“Hi,” Wirt murmured. He moved to hook the axe to his belt loop. He hopefully wasn’t going to use it any time soon. The deer gave a slight nod towards him, as if it acknowledged Wirt’s greeting. Wirt shakily brought his hand out toward the deer, and the deer actually bent down some and let Wirt stroke the short fur on his muzzle._

_The deer was wearing collar now. It was large and clunky; something that didn’t suit such a graceful animal in Wirt’s mind. He carefully inspected it. A word was printed across the front, embroidered in beautiful, script letters with white thread._

_“So your name is Hollywood, huh?” The deer’s head cocked to the side. Wirt tried not to think of the Beast. “’_ Hollywood is a place where they’ll pay you a thousand dollars for a kiss and fifty cents for your soul,’ _Marilyn Monroe.” Wirt began to walk through the snow, following behind the deer. “My mom really loved Marilyn Monroe when she was younger. She grew up watching her movies. She died about four years before I was born and I remember my mom still being upset about it. When I was younger, my mom would play her old Marilyn tapes whenever she came home from work. Not_ Gentlemen Prefer Blondes _or_ How to Marry a Millionaire _though, because she hated the ‘mainstream’ movies. She liked_ Bus Stop _and_ The Misfits _, and played_ Some Like It Hot _sometimes.” Wirt sighed. “When my little brother, Greg, was born, she stopped playing movies altogether. My step-dad didn’t like the idea of Greg watching them.”_

_Wirt was really letting his heart out to a deer named Hollywood. Oh well. He needed a good rant every once and a while. It did his soul good._

⁂

Everything was too good to be true. The Pasture was exactly like the meadow in Wirt’s dreams, albeit in color. It was even better in color. Wirt could now see the shades of all of the flowers and the bright greenness of the grass and the pastel yellows of the sun and sky. Dipper caught Wirt’s look of wonder and felt relieved some. It didn’t look like the Beast had hurt him too much.

There was a pool in front of them. The water glistened from the sunlight and rippled blue. The water looked warm and pure, no Californian chlorine or Oregonian dirtiness. Everything looked like the page in one of the storybooks that Dipper’s parents would read to him and his sister before bed when they were younger (and that Wirt used to read to Greg to make him go to sleep).

They walked to the poolside in awe. Wirt saw that it was more of a bath than a pool. There were soaps and shampoos off to the side, alongside the towels, a small basin and pitcher, and golden platters of fruit. Dipper’s mouth watered. “I’ll just turn my back when you take your clothes off.” Dipper picked up a plate of fruit and nearly swallowed down an entire mango. Wirt’s shoulders slumped slightly. So it was decided that he was going to bathe in the bath.

In front of Dipper.

Right now.

Whoa.

“Hey, there’s a sweater over here.” Wirt shakily unbuttoned his jacket. It was soiled with dirt and blood. It was time to throw it out anyway. No matter how much (stolen) ammonia he used, some smells just would not come out. Wirt’s nose wrinkled up as he set the jacket down on the ground. Good riddance. “This is definitely from Mabel. Man, I bet she made this just for you. She must really like you already. Did you talk to her?”

Dipper’s back was still turned and he was gobbling down on two apples at a time. “Yeah, we talked for a little bit, but then she had to go. She told me to tell you that she loves you.”

“Of course.” Dipper threw the apple cores out into the grass and got started on an orange. “I love her, too. So much. I wish I had a way to tell her that.”

“Yeah.” Wirt slid off his socks. He paused as he unbuttoned his trousers. He could just as easily put his clothes back on and decide to look for a shower on the train instead, but he wanted to do this. Wirt hardly ever took big leaps, but when he did, he went all out. He shed his underwear next and stepped inside of the bath.

The water was pleasantly warm and helped Wirt relax his weary bones. He still crossed his legs, though he was sure that nothing could be seen through the water. He closed his eyes and leaned back. He heard Dipper shift to the side of him. He must have turned around now.

“You know what.” A beat. “I, uh, kinda lied when I said that I wanted to major in English. When I was younger I wanted to be in film and photography and make my own paranormal reality show, but then I decided that writing suited me more, and then I decided that I actually didn’t want to go to college, I wanted to be an entrepreneur. But I stilled visited colleges and stuff, just in case I changed my mind.” Wirt knew what he was doing. He was rambling. What was Dipper so nervous about?

“I have a feeling that you’re not from Oregon either.”

“You’re right. I’m from Piedmont, Cali. Well, I’m originally from the Valley and my family’s actually from New Jersey. So, I guess I’m just all over the place.”

“My family’s originally from Arizona, but we moved to Oregon when I was really young.” He opened his eyes again to see that Dipper was peeling a banana. Wirt quickly closed his eyes again. “Are we just going to tell each other little facts about ourselves now?”

“Yeah, if you want to.” Dipper chuckled. Wirt’s cheeks reddened at the sound.

“Um, I’ve only dated one other person. It was this girl, Sara, back in high school. I used to make tapes for her and we would read poetry together, and we would smoke at the park together and talk about the dumbest things. She broke up with me before my seventeenth birthday, but we still stayed friends.” Wirt gulped at the mention of his seventeenth birthday. Dipper didn’t bat an eye when he mentioned that he used to smoke. He was oddly self-conscious about the fact. He had broken his family’s hearts when they discovered cigarettes lining his pillow cases. “She ended up dating someone else later on and was planning on going to college in Idaho before I ‘left.’”

“Wow. You had a high school sweetheart. I totally expected something like that from you.”

Wirt opened his eyes again. Dipper must have chucked the banana peel into the meadow also. He was eating a pear now.

“Well, what about you? You were too cool for a sweetheart?”

“No, I actually had multiple ‘sweethearts,’ for your information.” That managed to drag a laugh out of Wirt. “No, I’m serious! Okay, I went through this really bad, bad phase in high school. Like, really bad. I was all over the place and I’ll admit that my junior year was not my brightest moment.”

“Oh my goodness, that’s hilarious.”

“Yeah, ha, ha, very funny.” Dipper frowned as he bit into his pear.

“Okay, you can laugh at me now. I have frigophobia.”

Dipper flipped through his mental word bank of phobias. “Fear of the cold?”

“Yup.”

“That’s not anything to laugh about. I mean, I would be scared too with everything you’ve been through.”

“It’s not as bad as it used to be. There was a time when I would see a snowflake and nearly shit myself.”

“But, hey, you’re better now. That’s all that matters.” Dipper picked a cluster of red grapes from off of the platter. All that remained were a few slices of watermelon and pineapple, some berries, and an untouched kiwi. “Want some?” Wirt nodded. He wondered if he could eat now. He was tired of only drinking health tea, and if he couldn’t digest a simple grape, then he was going to have a serious meltdown.

Wirt reached out, but Dipper shook his head. “Let me.” He took one of the grapes off and held it in front of Wirt’s lips. Wirt was on the verge of becoming a discombobulated mess all over again. What type of guy fed you grapes by the poolside? The kind of guys in fairytales and Walt Disney films.

Wirt’s lips touched Dipper’s fingers – just a whisper of a touch – but it was enough for Dipper to visibly shiver and quickly pluck another grape. Wirt’s nerves were on edge, but he still gave Dipper’s fingers a light kiss before he ate another grape, again and again until they were all gone.

Dipper was close now. His eyes were dark and his pupils were dilated. Wirt squeezed his legs together tighter. A million thoughts scattered throughout Wirt’s mind. What if he was just another one of Dipper’s “sweethearts”? They knew each other for a short period of time, but they had managed to build so many irreplaceable experiences with one another, that it felt like much longer. And they were obviously close and there was obviously something developing between the two of them. But Wirt was never sure about anything.

When their breaths mingled, Wirt let one worry out: “I’m scared that when – if – I ever go back to the human world that I won’t be used to being ‘alive’ again. I’ve been so used to being like this, that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to really function again.” His whispered words brushed against Dipper’s lips and Dipper sighed and closed his eyes.

“I can teach you,” Dipper whispered back. It was Wirt’s turn to shiver. “We can work together to be normal, functioning, perfect people again.” They pressed their lips together. It was a soft kiss, chaste; a sensation that they both had been craving for a while now. Dipper inhaled sharply through his nose and kissed Wirt again. There was something almost irresistible about him. Wirt’s lips were sweet, almost like syrup, and Dipper was brought back to the days he would go out to the diner with Mabel and Stan. Wirt was just filled with nostalgia.

“I’m sorry that you had to meet me during such a strange time in my life,” Wirt whispered. Dipper kissed his smile.

“Want me to come back when it’s not strange then?”

“No. That’ll just make it stranger.” Dipper moved to get the bath pitcher and some soap.

“Want me to wash your back?” Dipper didn’t know where all of this self-confidence was coming from, but he was praying that he didn’t screw anything up and crumble back into his usual, awkward self, but he knew that Wirt wouldn’t mind, because together they made the perfect little awkward pair.

“Yeah, thanks.” Wirt moved up some away from the wall and leaned over for Dipper to soap his back up. He shuddered as Dipper’s hands moved all over him. He could definitely get used to this. He squeezed his legs together more tightly when he felt a certain heat begin to arise in his stomach. He let out a breath in relief when some cool water was poured onto his back.

⁂

_Wirt was positive that this was the longest and most lucid dream he had ever had. He was still chattering to the deer named Hollywood about his personal issues and the deer was either listening or completely indifferent about it all, but that didn’t stop Wirt from ranting. He was going solidly through the years of his life as they walked through the snowy forest. Wirt was almost caught up to the present now._

_“So, on soup days, which is every Wednesday or so in my house, he got to eat alphabet soup while I had to eat potato. Like, what kind of nonsense is that? Potato is disgusting, and my mom kept giving it to me week after week. I didn’t do anything to deserve potato soup. I don’t understand.” He bit his lip. The air was growing thinner and colder. The deer had a nice coat of frost over his fear. Wirt carefully brushed it off._

_“So, then we get to my seventeenth birthday.” Wirt attached the lantern to his side alongside the axe and stuck his hands in his pockets. He was sure that his cheeks and nose had reddened from the bite of the cold by now. He wondered if they were even going in the direction of anywhere warm and safe. The deer seemed to know where it was going, and Wirt only served to follow. “Yeah, a lot of bad things happened that day.”_

_The deer looked at him, as if to tell him to get on with it. Wirt felt a tinge of happiness at the fact that the deer might have actually been paying attention to him. Hollywood was willing to listen to a monologue about his life for the past hour or so and wanted him to talk more about it. Wirt was forever in this deer’s debt._

_“I tried to kill myself on my seventeenth birthday. At the party too,” Wirt let out._

_He bit his lip again, wondering how to continue. “Yeah, it was a really, really bad time. Really, really bad. I don’t even know how to describe it. The Beast, or whatever voice was in my mind, was just screaming that day. The whole entire day. It drove me insane. And then my parents were giving me all of this pressure, and my girlfriend had just broken up with me the day before. I thought that it wouldn’t affect me, but seeing her with someone else right after we broke up and at my party was just too much. I went upstairs to the bathroom right before they were about to cut the cake and I-I…” Wirt pulled his hands out of his pockets. The scars had healed over the long time spent in the Unknown, but in his dream he could see the ragged scars across his wrists as if they were new. “I-I… I don’t know what got into me. My brother found me, bleeding in the bathroom. He didn’t deserve to see anything like that. Never. A-And I put him through that, and I have to live with that fact forever. And I have no way to make it up to him.”_

_The deer pressed his wet nose against Wirt’s cheek. Wirt slung his arm over the deer’s neck and accepted the little kiss. “Thanks, Hollywood. You’re too nice.” He smiled as he pressed his cheek against the deer’s warm neck. “Now, if only you could tell me where you’re taking me.”_

⁂

Dipper pressed a kiss against Wirt’s cheek when they returned to the train. He now had the privilege to kiss Wirt whenever he wanted, and he was going to take full advantage of any opportunities that he could get. Wirt smiled appreciatively, so Dipper guessed that his kisses were welcomed.

“Where do you think we’re off to next?” Wirt asked. The sweater that Mabel made for Wirt was a black, white, and gray pattern and was slightly too big at the arms. Dipper played with the sleeve of the sweater and shrugged.

“Hopefully home.”

“Yeah, hopefully.”

⁂

_After three or so hours of walking, Wirt and the deer made it to a clearing. Wirt could just make out a house in the distance. He sprinted towards it, not knowing that the deer lingered behind at the end of the forest, its nose twitching and its eyes growing milkier._

⁂

_Bill laughed. It was too much of a mind fuck for Dipper to see his own body being animated by someone else. His physical form was dangling right in front of him, just out of reach, and the fact made him want to scream. Bill couldn’t win again. Never again. Dipper had promised himself to raise hell when Bill returned to Oregon, but it looked he had been dragged into Hell instead._

_Bill had removed his contacts. The yellow rim around his eyes was visible. He leaned in close to Dipper. “Any last words, Pine Tree?”_

_“Yeah, this,” Dipper spat right in his eye. Bill sputtered back and rubbed his hurt eye. It was red. Bill slapped him and dragged him by the hair into the next room. Dipper spotted a window in this new room. It was still snowing heavily outside. He wondered when this nightmare would end. If only he was dreaming._

_“I’ve always hated your guts, kid.”_

_“Well, the feeling’s mutual.”_

_“Now it’s time for me to actually see your guts. Thanks for fulfilling another dream of mine.” Bill pulled out the knife that had been stuck into the wall. It gleamed. Dipper continued to glance out of the window. He was growing anxious._

_Where was Wirt?_


	12. Hoarse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The tongue is a powerful weapon that only succeeded in bringing you to troublesome times,” he murmured. The Beast moved his hands away.

“We have now arrived to the Edge of the Pasture,” the Conductor announced over the intercom. “I am going to have to ask for all of the passengers to exit the locomotive. I have some, um, repairing to do. Won’t take long, I promise!” The Conductor heartily chuckled to himself. “Anyways, thank you for choosing to ride Eternal Garden Branch Line. We forgive, but never forget!” The intercom clicked off.

“’We forgive, but never forget’?” Wirt repeated. Dipper shrugged. Doors leading to the outside opened beside them. Dipper took Wirt’s hand as they walked out.

They certainly were at the Edge of the Pasture. There was a clear border between where the Pasture began and ended. The flowers stopped blossoming, the clouds stopped looming, and the sun stopped shining all at the edge of a forest. It was almost eerie to see. Like the forest had done too much wrong to deserve any flowers and sun.

“Got anything else you want to tell me?” Dipper asked. He squeezed Wirt’s hand lightly. Wirt smiled and shrugged.

“Uh, I don’t know. I, um, remember when I mentioned clarinet and poetry? Yeah, that’s pretty much all I’m good at. But, I’m pretty good at painting too, I guess. And one time my mother forced me and my brother to sign up for flower arranging classes and I was pretty okay at that.”

“Wow, you’re such an artist with so many hidden depths.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“I can play the sousaphone.”

“You’re fluent in Latin, play the sousaphone, and do ghost hunting, but you say you’re not a nerd.”

“You know what, shut up. Don’t act like you don’t have this brooding, hurting poet persona and woe-is-me aura around you.”

“ _’The pain of the mind is worse than the pain of the body,’_ ” Wirt quoted.

“What was that, Shakespeare?”

“Seneca, but close enough.”

Dipper sighed. They continued to converse until a light snow began to fall. Dipper caught a snowflake on his finger and shivered. The temperature was dropping fast and Wirt looked uneasy. “Let’s go back inside. The Conductor has to be finished with the train by now.”

“I hope so.” They both stepped inside of the train before they were called in.

“I’m gonna go see if I can find the Conductor,” Dipper said.

“I’m just going to see if I can find another sleeping car.” Dipper kissed Wirt’s cheek again before they let go of each other’s hands and parted ways.

Dipper’s dream from the previous night was heavy on his mind.

⁂

_Dipper crossed his arms over his body in a feeble attempt to warm himself. He wasn’t sure if he was dreaming or not anymore. Everything felt surreal, but he could feel the wind nipping at his nose. At least he found sanctuary in a cabin. But there was always something ominous about a seemingly abandoned cabin in the woods, especially on a dark and cold night like this._

_Dipper could only describe the cabin as having the perfect “grandmother aesthetic.” He was only at ease for a bit though, as the story of Hansel and Gretel came to his mind, and his mind went on the lookout for any starving witches who wanted to dump him into an oven._

_“Glad you came, Pine Tree.”_

_Dipper’s blood ran cold. He slowly turned around away from the fireplace, where the living-room was. There was a large, faded rocking chair with its back to him, surrounded by tealight candles, all lit, giving the chair a spooky glow._

_“Bill?”_

_“The one and only, kid!” The chair was knocked down. It fell into the candles and the cloth quickly caught fire. Dipper raced toward the door, but it was locked. It had only taken seconds for his dream to turn into a nightmare._

_Bill laughed. It was too much of a mind fuck for Dipper to see his own body being animated by someone else. His physical form was dangling right in front of him, just out of reach, and the fact made him want to scream. Bill couldn’t win again. Never again. Dipper had promised himself to raise hell when Bill returned to Oregon, but it looked he had been dragged into Hell instead._

_Bill had removed his contacts. The yellow rim around his eyes was visible. He leaned in close to Dipper. “Any last words, Pine Tree?”_

_“Yeah, this,” Dipper spat right in his eye. Bill sputtered back and rubbed his hurt eye. It was red. Bill slapped him and dragged him by the hair into the next room. Dipper spotted a window in this new room. It was still snowing heavily outside. He wondered when this nightmare would end. If only he was dreaming._

_“I’ve always hated your guts, kid.”_

_“Well, the feeling’s mutual.”_

_“Now it’s time for me to actually see your guts. Thanks for fulfilling another dream of mine.” Bill pulled out the knife that had been stuck into the wall. It gleamed. Dipper continued to glance out of the window. He was growing anxious._

_Where was Wirt? Dipper never wanted Wirt more in his life. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to focus on Wirt, his carefully chosen savior. If it was indeed a dream, then wouldn’t Wirt appear right then and there? Or had Bill taken complete control over his nightmare now?_

_“You know what, I’ve also always wanted to stick jalapeños in your eyes, but we can do that after I finish gutting you up like the little slithering fish you are.” Dipper could feel the knife plunging into his abdomen. He was convinced that it was not a dream then and there. The pain was real. He could feel Bill cackling and tears pricking his eyes and a scream erupting from his lips as the knife sunk into his skin deeper and deeper and was turned this and that way._

_He could feel his intestines spilling out of his body. When he looked down through his tear-soaked vision, he could see candy-colored organs and dark blood coating the floor and Bill had a strange expression on his face. Dipper could have sworn that he heard the demon moan._

_“It must be nice to be so gorgeous inside and out, huh, kid?” Hands were wrapping around Dipper’s throat and his mind echoed Bill’s empty wor—_

⁂

“Excuse me, sir, but you are not supposed to be on the train right now.” Dipper was jolted out of his thoughts. He turned to the Conductor and gave him a sheepish smile.

“Sorry, it was just getting really cold outside, and it was warmer inside of the train, so that’s why I came back inside. Sorry, again.” The Conductor smiled and shook his head.

“No problem. Here.” The Conductor pulled the blanket from the top of one seat. “Now, I’m going to have to ask you to leave the train again. Thank you.”

“Yeah, of course.” Dipper wrapped the blanket around his shoulders and saw himself out.

He sat on the edge of the train again. The moment felt incomplete without Wirt there. The snow was falling faster, and he could still feel the chill through the thin blanket. He sighed. This was going to be a miserable wait.

Dipper cleared the snow from his eyes and looked around the Edge of the Pasture. There had to be something interesting around. He looked back at the train for a moment. The Conductor and Wirt weren’t around. This was the chance to do some exploring by himself. Dipper jumped down, wrapped the blanket more tightly around himself, and continued on towards the forest.

⁂

Wirt couldn’t find the sleeping car, just more and more seats. Even though he craved nothing more than a nice pillow and blanket, a seat was going to have to do. He curled into himself as he lied down and squeezed his eyes shut. There was a gloomy air of exhaustion over him, but sleep wasn’t coming to Wirt. He hated those times when he was so tired that his bones literally ached, but sleep just refused to bless him.

The window next to him shattered suddenly.

Wirt jumped out of the seat and frantically looked around. Among the shattered glass was an axe.

“There is a glass hazard in the fourth car. Please stir clear of it and I will patch up the window as soon as possible. Thank you,” the Conductor announced. Wirt brushed the glass from the axe and picked it up. It was certainly the Beast’s. It had the same feel and weight to it. But why, why was the Beast still haunting him?

Wirt looked out the window. Where he was expecting two glowing eyes, he received milky ones instead. It was Hollywood, with the lantern attached to its antlers, along with a jacket. Wirt cautiously picked up the lantern and jacket, as to not startle the deer. He let out an uneasy breath when he saw that the jacket had gold buttons.

“So, looks like we're doing this.” Wirt put on the jacket. It was soft and velvety, reminiscent to the Woodsman's coat. Wirt looked around. Dipper was still gone and the Conductor was nowhere to be found. He hopefully wasn’t going to be gone for long. Wirt climbed out of the broken window and tightened his grip on the axe. “Let's do this, Hollywood.” For once, he sounded confident.

⁂

Dipper couldn’t believe that his dreams had become reality once again. He stood in front of the cabin, in pure shock at first, before slowly opening the door, letting the loud creaking sound disturb him out of his senses, and stepped inside. He could apologize to whomever for the intrusion later. For now, his curiosity was overriding his senses.

The inside of the cabin was so identical to the one in his dream, it was creepy. It had all the same furnishings, the same wallpaper, and the same “grandma aesthetic.” The only difference was that the candles on the floor weren’t lit. Dipper could let off a sigh from his chest at that. He didn’t need to die in a fire today, not when he was so close to retrieving sweet escape.

The large chair spun around. Bill, in Dipper’s worn and torn body, stared at him intensely. Now, Dipper knew that he was indeed in reality, as Bill wasn’t insulting him with his irritating voice. Bill only confirmed it when he stood and opened his mouth. All Dipper saw was teeth and a mess of dried blood. He winced. Bill could have at least attempted to clean the blood out (unless his fight with Mabel proved to be that bloody).

Dipper focused in on the ceramics of praying hands and deer statues that aligned the fireplace as Bill slowly approached him. He knew that the door must have been locked, so he had to find another escape route.

 _The kitchen,_ his mind suggested. Dipper made a run for it.

Bill tackled him down as he reached the archway. Dipper grunted with effort as he tried to push his own body off. He felt lighter. Dipper could see how much Bill did not take care of his body as they tousled on the floor. Bill had dark and blue circles underneath his eyes (worse than Dipper ever had to deal with), unruly and tangled hair, bandages haphazardly stretched across his chin and fingertips, and Dipper could spot suspicious looking cuts around his writs when his sleeves rolled up. Dipper knew that it was going to be a long road to recovery whenever he got his body back.

Bill managed to pin Dipper’s shoulders to the floor and hold his chest down with his foot. Dipper was held down long enough for Bill to retrieve a knife from off of the counter. With memories of his organs spilling out fresh in his mind, Dipper struggled for life, but even with his battered form, Bill proved to be stronger in this battle. He smirked toothily and waved the knife in front of Dipper’s nose.

Dipper gulped and looked into Bill’s eyes. They were unemotional, too apathetic to be human. “What,” Dipper breathed out, “you’re just gonna stare at me? Do it already.” Bill snarled.

⁂

Wirt’s hands shook with a building sense of anxiety as he approached the cabin. He never got to see what was inside in his dream. He woke up too soon. He looked back at the blind deer as he reached for the doorknob. Hollywood nudged his side and tapped its nose against the axe. Wirt shivered from cold anticipation. He didn’t know why he had to use to axe nor did he want to, but Hollywood seemed to know best.

“Goodbye pal.” Wirt pet the deer’s muzzle before he entered the home.

He didn’t expect for a rush of warmth to hit him so suddenly. He really had entered a humble abode in the forest. It would’ve been a peaceful environment if it weren’t for the yells of blood murder in the kitchen.

Wirt raced in, axe raised high, to see another Dipper holding a knife to Dipper’s throat. Wirt tried to shake away his confusion as best as he could and swung the axe at the second Dipper. His mind filled in the blanks with how Dipper described a dream demon taking over his body during their first encounter. This must have been Bill Cipher.

The axe missed and with each following swing, Bill grew explicitly angry. He dropped the knife from Dipper’s throat in the haze of the struggle and Dipper managed to grab it and aim it at Bill.

Bill only looked worried for a split second. He relaxed and smirked again, even though he had an axe and a knife pointed at him. Wirt could feel even more anxiety gather in the pit of his belly.

The room darkened suddenly. Wirt dropped the axe from the sight in the window. Two luminescent eyes were peering at him, Dipper, and Bill. Wirt never would have guessed that the two demons were in cahoots with each other.

The glass from the windows shattered and the Beast poked his head in. His antlers scratched against the walls and his long fingers were balanced against the windowsill. “How did you idiotic children manage to find my and my colleague’s little place of sanctuary?”

“W-Wha…? How?” Dipper stammered out. In his moment of confusion, Bill flipped the script and took the knife again. He held Dipper against his body and his smirk widened as he looked on at the Beast and Wirt.

“I believe that my temporary muted colleague asked if you would like to engage in a deal with him,” the Beast said. His voice was oddly soft. It was the voice he used when he would take a freezing child’s last hopeless breath. The hairs on Wirt’s neck stood on end.

Dipper’s eyes widened. He thrashed against Bill’s tight grasp. “No, Wirt don—” Bill rolled his eyes and dug the edge of the knife into Dipper’s shoulder. Wirt twitched and looked around hopelessly. So, he was the child in the situation, about to take his own last breath. What was the cost going to be?

“What’s the deal?” Wirt asked. The front of Dipper’s white sweater was staining dark too quickly. His arm had grown weak in its battle against Bill. His only weapons were his eyes – big, sad eyes – that stared at Wirt with a plea. Wirt forced himself to turn away from his silent begging.

“It’s a simple exchange really; your tongue for the Stranger’s freedom.” Wirt looked at Dipper. The right side of his sweater was completely stained red now and his eyes were beginning to flutter closed. Wirt raised an eyebrow. Bill could just let Dipper go and consider that his “freedom.” “Of course, you need further elaboration. You always want to know every single detail whenever it involves you. Selfish as always. To clarify: by ‘freedom,’ my friend means that he will allow for the both of you to safely travel the train to your next destination – an alternate timeline, might he add – if you just give him your tongue, as he is lacking one, and will really like to speak again.”

Wirt looked at Dipper. His eyes were barely opened now and he was leaning heavily against Bill. Bill seemed to be relishing in the fact that the young man’s blood was seeping onto his own skin and clothes. The kitchen was quickly reeking of salt and iron. Wirt knew that it was only going to get even more putrid.

Wirt closed his eyes tightly and nodded his head. He bent down to pick up the fallen axe at his feet. His hands shook with such intensity that he was sure he was going to drop it again.

He opened his mouth and rolled his tongue out. He held the axe above his lips and looked at the Beast. The demon chuckled (perhaps sadly) and reached his long arm out to stroke Wirt’s chin and tongue (perhaps for the last time).

“The tongue is a powerful weapon that only succeeded in bringing you to troublesome times,” he murmured. The Beast moved his hands away.

 _Fast and easy,_ Wirt thought, _like a Band-Aid. Do it for Dipper. Do it for yourself. Do it for Mabel, for Beatrice, for Greg._

Fast and easy, Wirt swung the axe. At first, he felt nothing. When he looked down to see a pink appendage lying useless at his feet, he began to panic and feel the pain. He felt blood gurgling in his mouth, filling it like a faucet to a sink. He sank to his knees and pressed to his fingers to stop bleeding of the new gaping hole in his mouth, but to no avail.

It further sickened him to see Bill bend down and grab the severed organ, and then casually place it into his own mouth as if it was nothing out of the ordinary. The Beast only watched the scene silently, for once having nothing to say, and Dipper could feel his own sympathetic pain for Wirt.

Wirt blacked out as the pain became too intense. He could feel his head slamming into the marble floors. He could hear Dipper screaming in agony. He could hear demons laughing him to sleep.


	13. Training Wheels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Should I attempt suicide again? I just don’t see the point of us living in Hell.

“Professor Pines?” Dipper had lost his train of thought. He blinked at his student and then frowned.

“Um, I’m sorry. What were you, uh, saying again?” They just smiled and shook their head. Dipper knew that he had always been the “absentminded professor” type ever since he was a child. He once fell into a well because he was looking at the stars (or so he thought so, his memories were on the hazy side all of a sudden).

“I just said that I wanted you to tell Mrs. Langtree congrats on her pregnancy whenever she gets back, that’s all.” The student waved and turned to the door. “Goodnight!”

“Goodnight,” Dipper responded. He watched after the student as they left the room. He looked around the classroom blankly. He lost his thoughts often, but not like this. He felt like he had been placed into another dimension entirely.

Dipper looked down at his desk. He could recall and yet not recall being a teacher at the same time. There was a stack of essays to his left and a how-to book on American Sign Language to his right. He felt like he had read the book, memorized it even, but couldn’t remember picking it up from the bookstore or reading it. Dipper picked up the papers and books.

Underneath the desk was a plastic bag – yellow, with the design of a rose printed on it. He picked it up and looked inside. There was a small receipt saying that he had purchased the items sometime that morning. He never remembered buying two-by-two inch canvases though. Dipper couldn’t paint. He picked up the bag anyway and left the classroom. Everything was giving him a headache.

⁂

Everything was like a dream as Dipper walked around the town. A haze covered everything, but it wasn’t ominous, it was inviting in a way. The color changed slowly, steadily, that it took Dipper a while to notice that the hue around him was progressing from purple to blue to green to yellow and then back to purple. Dipper almost didn’t want to ever leave the beautiful haze, but his feet halted him.

He was on the left side of the sidewalk, in front of a house that was sided by a lemonade shoppe on one side and a flower shop on the other. The house had potted plants all around it and vines climbing down its walls. Dipper’s grip on the plastic bag tightened as he walked up the cement stairs to get to the quaint home’s door.

He felt around his jacket pockets and found a red key. There was a label it saying _YOURS_ in neat, bold letters. The key fit into the lock.

The house was more so familiar than the classroom somehow. The walls to the entrance room had a chipping coat of white with paintings of flowers scattered about, some not even hung up yet. Dipper wasn’t sure if he was confused or not as he took his shoes off and went deeper inside the house.

The transition from the entrance room to the living room was interesting. He went from white walls and flower paintings to pink walls. It was all giving off a warm aura and was just screaming in a language of familiarity that Dipper couldn’t decipher.

He entered to the first door he saw – a bedroom with religious memorabilia scattered about. He swore that he saw a room like that before. The tealight candles, ceramics of praying hands and statues of Mother Mary and deer, and the rocking chair in the corner of the room – he had seen it before. He carefully closed the door as to not knock down any of the candles.

The kitchen was a pleasing sight also. Potted plants hung from the ceiling. Dipper came to (obvious) conclusion that the florist must have lived in this home that he somehow had the key to. He saw teacups on the table and the hazy view of the outside through the curtains. The haze gave such a calm scene.

The sound of shuffling took Dipper out of his reverie. He set down the book and papers on the kitchen counter and went to another door, which he assumed was another bedroom. The house certainly was bigger on the inside than it looked on the outside.

There was a red rose attached to the door Dipper came across. He touched its petals – real, but it looked so artificial – before he took it down. The inside of the room was small, like a walk-in closet, but there was so much inside. The ceilings had soft designs carved into them and the wallpaper was bordered with rose wallpaper. There were small glass tables against the walls and Dipper spotted a white cigarette packet with a message scrawled across it. He recognized it as his own handwriting.

I’m sorry that I haven’t been very romantic lately, and I know that you like these more than flowers (well, sometimes, I think).

When Dipper looked up to the glass table in the front of the small room, he immediately recognized who it was. “Wirt?” He called out.

Wirt looked up and turned his head slightly toward the other man’s direction. Dipper saw that there were pressed flowers and small painted canvases on the table. Dipper gave the plastic bag to Wirt, with the similar tiny canvases inside, and Wirt smiled as he took it. There were various empty glasses on the table also.

They looked at each other for a moment. Dipper thought that Wirt looked confused also. The other man was wearing a large black hat – the brim cast a shadow over his eyes – and a quilt wrapped around his shoulders. Wirt smiled again. He took his hands from underneath the quilt and made various gestures with his hands. “Welcome home,” he signed. Dipper was taken aback from that fact that he understood him. Well, he thought, he had that book on sign language for a reason.

“Yeah,” Dipper breathed. He reached out and touched Wirt’s cheek. The man was like a dream too. There was something hazier about him than the view of the outside. Wirt’s skin was soft, familiar – certainly not the product of a dream. Wirt still held that familiar and unfamiliar quality to him though.

Wirt frowned at Dipper’s silence. “What’s wrong?” He quickly signed.

“N-Nothing.” Dipper’s stuttering didn’t seem to put Wirt at ease. “It’s just that…” Dipper sighed. “I don’t know. I feel like I’m forgetting something. Something really important, too. It all started in the classroom.”

“I feel the same actually,” Wirt signed. He placed his hand over Dipper’s. He then stood up and let the blanket fall on the chair. Wirt was wearing a white sweater. “Can you help me now? I’ve been waiting for you all day.”

Dipper allowed himself to smile. It would be nice to be lost in the moment with Wirt. Maybe it would help him keep his mind off things. “Help with what?”

Wirt didn’t answer. He led Dipper to the bathroom instead. The bathroom was pretty too. There were jars of honeycomb with black lids and a painted ashtray on the windowsill. Dipper moved the cigarette butts and ashes and saw an image of a gnome (he assumed – it was a boy with a large red hat and blue jacket, at least) and another boy in overalls with an up-side-down teapot on his head and a frog in his arms. It was a cute painting and that made Dipper smile with an unknown bit of nostalgia, like he had heard a story featuring the two before.

The toilet was surrounded by books. Dipper sat on the lid and watched as Wirt took off his hat, threw it down the hallway, and then closed the door. There was a tinge to his downy cheeks, making them pinker than usual. “You promised that you’d help me bathe,” he slowly signed, “since the showerhead isn’t working.” Dipper remembered, yet didn’t at the same time, making such a promise, but he wasn’t going to back down on it.

“Of course,” he said. Wirt handed him a large cup. There was the logo to the lemonade shoppe next door on it. He imagined taking trips there with Wirt. Perhaps on Sunday mornings when Dipper didn’t have class and Wirt didn’t have to deliver flowers, and they would both laugh over cups of too-sweet lemonade as a yellow haze seeped in through the shoppe’s large windows.

Wirt undressed quickly and sat inside of the bathtub. There was water already in the tub. Dipper moved to the edge of the tub and felt that the water was still warm. “Were you here the whole time?” Dipper asked as he scooped some of the water up and poured it over Wirt’s shoulders. Wirt shivered.

The water rippled as Wirt moved his hands above the surface. “Yes. You started feeling that way in the classroom, I started feeling this way when I was painting in that room."

“But the house feels like home though.” Dipper took some soap from the corner of the tub - honey-scented – and rubbed it over Wirt’s back and shoulders in small circles. “It’s this combination of cluttered and cozy at the same time.” He poured more water over his shoulders. He couldn’t help but take in a sharp breath when he saw Wirt shudder again. The other had his legs pressed together tightly.

“Yeah,” Wirt clumsily signed. He leaned his head against the tiled wall and closed his eyes. Dipper poured more water over the suds that covered his chest. Wirt bit his lip.

Dipper ran more soap over Wirt’s chest and stomach and rinsed it. Wirt quickly signed a thank you and then let the drain up for the bath. Dipper was left to watch the other dry himself off and throw another sweater on. There was something familiar about bathing him too, but Dipper couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He followed Wirt down the hallway.

It was darker outside.

Dipper hadn’t explored the second bedroom. It was more darkly decorated than the first one. “Who’s the other bedroom for?” Dipper asked. Wirt shrugged.

“I don’t remember.” Dipper felt like they were going to be saying that phrase a lot.

The bedroom had a china cabinet and a camera on the nightstand, along with a white rotary dial telephone. The bedcovers were simple and blue. Judging from the dark outlines of the curtain, there were more plants on that side of the house.

Wirt opened up the dresser and took out a pair of underwear and pants. Dipper sat on the bed and watched the other redress, silent in his confusion. He had millions of questions swimming throughout his mind, but Wirt didn’t have the answers. No one did if everybody else in the town felt the same way that they did.

Wirt pulled out a new packet of cigarettes from the drawer. “We have to go to a funeral in four days. Got a letter in the mail,” he signed. “I have to go do this flower order for it.” He tucked the cigarettes into his pocket before he walked over to Dipper’s spot on the bed. It was his turn to stroke the other’s cheek. “Take a bath and go to bed, okay?”

“And I don’t get help with my bath?”

“No, it’ll be too distracting. I want you to sleep. Maybe you’ll feel better in the morning.” He leaned in and kissed the other. Dipper couldn’t taste any cigarettes on his lips, so Wirt must’ve not smoked recently. Dipper didn’t like the idea, but Wirt probably deserved a smoke or two.

He raised his hand with the intent to run his fingers through other’s hair, but Wirt back away. He quickly signed a goodbye and raced out of the room.

Dipper sat on the bed for a moment and longed for the other’s lips one more time. Dipper found himself frowning at Wirt’s jumpiness, but it couldn’t be helped.

⁂

Dipper’s curiosity also couldn’t be helped. He just had to give the house a proper look over. He was a snooper at heart. He wasn’t going to deny it. He started with the first bedroom.

There were pictures on the dresser, hidden behind the statues. The faces were crossed out and Dipper couldn’t even guess who the people in the photographs were.

He went through the drawers. There were cassette tapes with the film drawn out – a lot, actually. He wondered if they were Wirt’s or the unknown person’s. He somehow remembered Wirt saying something about recording tapes, but he didn’t know what exactly.

He only managed to find one thing worthwhile in the room: a diary. The cover was black with _JOURNAL_ in gold lettering across it. Dipper leaned against the bed as he opened it. His nosiness wasn’t limited to reading other people’s personal records. He felt like he read journals all the time, perhaps even collected them at one point of time.

There were sketches of flowers and other plants with prices to them. Entries came after ten pages or so. Each entry was written in blue ink and were only a sentence or so long.

_I really like him. I wonder if he feels the same._

_I feel really confused with everything. With him. With myself. I don’t know why I’m here or why he’s here either._

_I hope he doesn’t leave._

_I hope to God he isn’t leaving._

_Why would he like me? I’m horrible. I don’t deserve someone like him. He’s breathing poetry._

_I don’t want to be here._

_I hate it here._

_I’m so overwhelmed. I hate this. Why am I so anxious?_

The last entry was written in black.

_Should I attempt suicide again? I just don’t see the point of us living in Hell._

Dipper ripped the page out and looked over it again. He read it correctly. Dipper threw the diary on the bed and ran to the flower shop.

⁂

Wirt dropped the bouquet of flowers he was working on when Dipper slammed the door open. He didn’t lock the door in case Dipper needed something, but he should’ve to prevent any more heart attacks.

“What’s wrong?” Wirt signed again. He took his working apron off. Dipper gave him a balled up piece of paper. His heart sank when he read it. He remembered thinking the words, but not writing them. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean this.”

“I don’t care if you meant it or not. You shouldn’t be thinking this way. Ever.” Dipper gripped Wirt’s shoulders roughly. “Are you thinking about killing yourself right now?” Wirt shook his head. “Don’t ever think about yourself like that. You’re one who breathes poetry, not me. You’re the most amazing person ever, so please, don’t ever scare me like that again.” Did Wirt seriously not see how fantastic his circumstances were?

Wirt had tears in his eyes. Dipper backed off. He probably scared him. He probably took it too far, like he always did. “I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you, but I need you to understand that I…” Dipper trailed off.

Wirt wiped his eyes with the back of his sweater sleeves. “Say it,” he signed.

It was too sappy to say out loud. “I really care about you and I want to…” He trailed off with his signing.

“Do it,” Wirt signed.

Dipper looked at Wirt. The man’s eyes were still wet. The sweater he was wearing was too big for him. His hair was haphazardly swept in different directions from when Dipper grabbed his shoulders. He was waiting and Dipper was impatient.

Dipper kissed him again. Hard. All of their kisses before had been soft and delicate – like Wirt – and now Dipper was pressing him against the wall, stepping on the fallen flowers, and biting his lips, his tongue, brushing against his teeth. Wirt’s eyes widened and he grabbed Dipper’s hair. Perhaps he had craved at least one kiss that left bruises on his lips all along.

The melded together. Dipper liked the way the wool of Wirt’s sweater felt against his skin and Wirt liked the way Dipper’s beard tickled his skin. He was glad that he didn’t ask the other to shave.

Dipper unzipped Wirt’s trousers and he was turned around so his front was against the wall. “You need to learn how to love yourself,” Dipper grunted out as he unzipped his own pants, “before you can love me, all right?” Wirt shook his head. He just couldn’t take on the task of loving himself. He didn’t get the concept. “Please. Do it for me. Do it for yourself.” Wirt shook his head again. He lowered his own pants when Dipper stopped moving and rubbed against the other. Dipper moaned and continued their antics.

“You won’t be happy living like this,” Dipper whispered. He gripped the other’s reddening cock anyways and rutted against the other. “Trust me, I know.” Wirt sighed, as his pleasures were prisoned to silence, and closed his eyes. He didn’t need to hear Dipper right now. He just wanted to feel him – to feel the other’s length hardening and thrusting against his skin.

“Wirt,” Dipper whispered. “Wirt, please.” Wirt shook his head again. At least his hands were preoccupied with trying to make Dipper shut up instead of engaging in conversation. He turned around and kissed Dipper again, effectively silencing him. He gripped the other in his hand and stroked quickly, feeling beads of precum leak in between his warm fingers.

“I jus—” Dipper’s words were cut off with a sudden loud moan and he was coming in Wirt’s hand. Wirt held back an uncharacteristic smirk at the sight. Dipper hadn’t lasted very long, and he was the one who initiated it all. Wirt quickly stroked himself to completion at the thought, so that they both could be sated and maybe Dipper would forget about what he was saying.

Wirt could see the pupils of Dipper’s eyes dilating as he watched Wirt. Wirt wondered where his sudden courage came from. He had been so shy in the bathtub and now he was so willing in the flower shop (where anyone could walk in at any moment, mind him).

He rubbed the head of his cock – quickly, he didn’t want to go slow. He was slow with everything, always careful and delicate. For once, he didn’t care. He could feel the palm of his hand rubbing raw from his speed, but it didn’t matter. Dipper was breathing almost as heavily as he was and Wirt swore that he could see stars when he came.

Dipper kissed him again as he came down from his high. He kissed his lips, his neck, the bridge of his nose.

“Thank you,” Wirt signed. His hands were tired and his heart was about to beat out of his chest, and he loved the feeling.

“Thank you,” Dipper said back. Wirt was right. He had forgotten what he was going to say. He forced himself away from Wirt and retrieved the box of tissues (conveniently placed) on the table beside them. He cleaned Wirt’s and his own fingers and then he tucked himself back into his boxers and zipped his pants up. He kissed Wirt’s cheek. “Need anything? I’m not tired yet.”

“Are you going to the store?”

“Yeah, I saw one when I walking through town.”

“I’m hungry, I guess,” Wirt signed. Dipper smiled. His grin was wide and goofy and Wirt found it contagious too, because he was returning the smile.

“I’ll try and come back with food as fast as I can.” He pressed a chaste kiss against the other’s lips. “Bye!”

Wirt mouthed the word “goodbye” as he watched Dipper race down the darkening streets.

⁂

Dipper dumped two small bottles of lubricant and microwavable Chinese food for two on the cashier’s counter. A redhead girl who he felt like he should’ve known rang the items up with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. She placed everything in a yellow plastic bag with a rose on the front and wished him a very nice night.

“Thanks,” Dipper chuckled. He wondered if she might have been a student of his. She looked about the same age, maybe older than him, but he felt too young to be a teacher. It was really the lumberjack-esque beard that made him appear older.

Dipper stood and watched his surroundings turn from orange to red before he made his way back home. He purchased a large of cup lemonade from the shoppe before he entered his house.

⁂

Wirt had a second black hat with him the next morning. He said that it was for Dipper, for him to wear during the funeral. There were more small paintings on the glass table and a large canvas in the corner with a sheet over it.

“It’s for the funeral too,” Wirt signed when he saw Dipper looking at it. “I’m not finished yet. I think I’m painting the person who died. I’m not sure. Some guy just came in, gave me a picture, and told me to finish it in three days.”

“That’s what I call a rude customer. Did he even pay you?”

“Of course. I never do anything for free.” Wirt smiled. He looked like he wanted to laugh, but simply couldn’t. “I’ll let you see it when I’m done. It doesn’t look too nice right now.”

“Okay fine. As long as I don’t die of suspense first.”

“Well, there’s already going to be a funeral, so whatever.”

“Gee, thanks. You always know how to make me feel special.”

“I really do.” Wirt kissed his cheek. Dipper turned his head so he could kiss his lips. Wirt smiled and broke the kiss. “I have to finish working.”

Dipper sighed. “Okay.” He had papers to grade anyway.

⁂

The next morning, two days until the funeral, they made love for the first time on the living-room sofa.

Wirt’s face was pressed against the cushions, but he had turned his head so he could breathe just fine. He bit his lip as Dipper thrust against him in almost animalistic spasms. It was as if Dipper had been holding back his urges the entire time and the feeling of Dipper hot and inside him made Wirt believe that the other man liked him – maybe even loved him – just as much as he did.

Wirt tightened his fingers against the cushions and closed his eyes, letting himself become lost in the moment once more. He rubbed against the sofa and felt the cool cloth against his hot skin and sighed. Dipper was kissing along his back and shoulders, and everything was simply perfect.

It was like a communion of close friends, a prayer whispered between lovers, what they were doing. And Wirt found in all beautiful in his hopelessly poetic mind. He wanted to whisper “thank you” a million times when he felt Dipper shudder and come inside him, but he couldn’t. His tongue was worthless. He could barely move it. He hoped that the sight of his fingers sinking into the cushions and his mouth open agape as he came also would be enough; their own silent way of saying “thank you.”

Dipper was kissing his back again, sleepily, as he slowly removed himself. Wirt shivered at the sudden emptiness and the rush of cum leaving him. He had to teach himself how to breathe normally again.

“You’re so perfect,” Dipper whispered against his skin. “I want you to know that.” Wirt didn’t know how to respond. He lied on his hands so he couldn’t anyway. He didn’t want to. “I hope you realize that.”

 _I can’t,_ Wirt thought. He slowly turned around so he could kiss Dipper back to silence.


	14. Cherry Bomb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dipper tied the knot, kicked the chair, and stood back to watch Bill float in the air.

“Well, I remember this girl from high school, junior year – and I feel really bad that this is one of the things that I do remember, and don’t judge me okay, I don’t even remember her name too – and she gave me some, I guess you can say ‘lessons,’ in how to do it.”

Wirt pulled the sheets over his head. His cheeks were on fire. He felt like a schoolgirl now, blushing like this. It was unreasonable, but he couldn’t help himself. He stuck his hands from out of the covers so Dipper could see. “So, you’re telling me that some girl in high school taught you how to talk dirty?”

“That’s what I’m saying. What she really liked was words. Not touching, but words. I would get close to her, like this.” Dipper pulled the covers down and leaned towards Wirt’s ear. “And I could whisper whatever I wanted to her, and that’s all it took.”

“I shouldn’t have asked,” Wirt quickly signed. “Let’s get ready for the funeral, come on.”

“I always loved the way your cheeks look. They’re so pink.” Wirt could feel Dipper’s breath ghosting over his ear. He was trying his best to suppress the shivers going down his spine. “But they look pinker than usual right now. Why?” And, oh no, those were teeth. Dipper had the audacity to actually nibble on Wirt’s ear. He was gripping the sheets more tightly now. “Maybe we should just skip the funeral and spend the day in bed.”

“What would we do?” Wirt’s hands shook as he did each sign.

He could feel Dipper smiling against his ear. He wondered how they were naturally so shy and unsure of themselves, but could immediately gain confidence in seconds when the situation called for it. “I could kiss you again. Leave more bruises on you. I could hold you and then I cou—”

“Okay, I’m done already. I’m about to die over here.”

“Thank you so much,” Dipper breathed out before he pulled the sheets off of Wirt and stripped him of his boxers. Wirt’s length was already turning rosy with blood and beginning to strain against his belly. It only took a few words from Dipper to get him like this. He figured that he was smitten from the start. The details were foggy, but the evidence was solid. “You know, this is the least I can do.”

“Huh?” Dipper didn’t need to Wirt’s hands to know what he had signed.

“You know, you’ve been giving and giving and giving to me, and now it’s your turn to receive.” Dipper did it again. He wrapped his tongue around the head of Wirt’s cock – slowly – and Wirt was about to melt into the sheets. He was embarrassed about the fact that Dipper had hardly done anything, but his back was already arching off the bed and he could feel an orgasm building up in the pit of his belly. He didn’t want to come so quickly, but it served him right after what he had done to Dipper in the flower shop.

Wirt opened his eyes to see Dipper looking up at him, a weird cocky smile on his face as he began to pump his hand across Wirt’s length. “But I guess you like more than just words, huh? Maybe I should’ve memorized a poem and seen how you would’ve liked that.” Wirt shook his head. If Dipper recited a poem for him – any poem, it could be about roses blooming or people dying for goodness sake – he would literally implode. Just from the thought of Dipper getting close to him, dripping sultry stanzas of pure poetry into his ears, made Wirt come. He swore that he could hear Dipper chuckling under his breath, but he didn’t care. He felt pure bliss whenever he was with the other like this.

Wirt could taste his cum on Dipper’s tongue when they met for a kiss. He had to force himself to pull away. “We have to get ready,” he reminded the other. “It’ll be time to go in a little while.” Dipper groaned as Wirt jumped out of bed and rummaged through the closet for their clothes.

“Ugh, can’t we just skip it?” Wirt shook his head. “This is so weird. So, we just got some invite for a funeral and we don’t even know who the deceased is and then some guy makes you paint the person.” Dipper clamored out of bed and took his outfit from Wirt. He wore the second hat and the rest of the black attire that Wirt handed to him. Wirt took the flowers he had spent so long arranging and Dipper held the canvas for him. It was still covered and he was anxious as to see how Wirt’s painting turned out.

Wirt gave Dipper a look and Dipper only shrugged. “Let’s go, I guess.”

⁂

Dipper wasn’t expecting to see hundreds of people, all dressed in black and hats, walking in rows down the street. They all looked forward, none of them speaking, all serious expressions on their faces. The haze around them was dark also – no pretty colors that day. The entire scene chilled Dipper to the bone and he could feel his grip on the painting tighten unconsciously.

Dipper followed behind Wirt. He didn’t know if he could do anything else but follow everyone to this “funeral.” He regretted letting himself become so preoccupied with Wirt instead of investigating what was going on. Their memory loss, sudden appearance in this strange, hazy town, and the funeral just weren’t adding up. He knew that their circumstances were just downright weird when he received more papers from his students and saw that everyone had the same handwriting and identical stories, but Wirt had made him dump the papers on the floor and forget everything with a kiss.

They stopped when they reached the edge of the town. There was a small chapel off to the side, but people moved behind it, where a giant crater was in the ground. Wirt moved his way to the front and Dipper followed behind. He felt like everyone was watching them.

Wirt walked around the hole and dropped the flowers in every corner of the circle, until the dark flowers aligned everywhere. He reached his hand out for the painting and Dipper confusedly handed it over. Wirt reached down and set the painting against the casket before uncovering it.

“Mabel?” Dipper gasped. He didn’t know where the name came from, but something in his mind just clicked. “Mabel!” Memories came flooding back. It was almost painful. His temples ached as an intense sense of déjà vu overrode his senses. He had been to his sister’s funeral before, and now he was making a full circle.

“Mabel?” Wirt whispered. Dipper looked over at him in surprise.

“You can talk now.” They both looked at each other in shock, but the moment didn’t last long. Two people pushed them into the hole from behind.

Dipper luckily landed in the dirt. Wirt nearly banged his head against the casket. They looked up to see people with shovels beginning to fill the crater up again. It was suddenly too deep to simply climb back out.

“What do we do, what do we do,” Wirt muttered to himself. Dipper looked over at the casket. A white light emitted from inside it.

“Let’s go through the casket,” Dipper said. Wirt looked over at the light also. His brow creased. This wasn’t going to be fun.

They moved the painting out of the way and hurried to lift the lid off the casket. Mabel was inside – or, what was left of her. The skin was decaying and the putrid smell of decomposing flesh nearly made Dipper vomit. She was wearing a bright sweater with a shooting star on it, like some type of cruel joke. He closed his eyes and lifted her body out and onto the ground as fast as he could.

The light from the casket brightened and Dipper could see that the light was swirling inside. He hoped that it was some kind of portal. Wirt grabbed his arm before they jumped inside.

⁂

They were transported to some type of blank space. Darkness completely blanketed the both of them. They silently took some unsure steps forward, until they reached a light source. There was a deer’s head mounted on the wall with glowing antlers and hazed over eyes. Wirt swore that he could feel the deer’s eyes following them as they moved on.

They moved on to another place with a single tealight candle and glass hands clasped together in prayer on the ground. “I don’t like this,” Wirt murmured. For once, Dipper was at a loss for words.

The floor tilted suddenly and glowed with words. Dipper ignored the hateful messages and helped Wirt across, but Wirt read them all.

_You’ll never make it across._

_You’re not strong enough._

_You’re going to be stuck here forever._

_You should just give up already._

_You’ll be dead soon enough._

The messages hung heavy in Wirt’s mind as they continued on. He wondered when they would reach their destination and what lied there. Hopefully not death, but it seemed promised. Wirt found himself letting go of Dipper. Dipper reached out for him, but held himself back.

They both remained in deafening silence as they went on.

A sudden light to the left of Wirt scared him. It was shape of a box and melded into a black and white image. It was him and Greg, after his seventeenth birthday at the hospital. Greg was smiling and sitting next to Wirt on the bed, but it was obvious that his eyes were ruddy from his crying. Wirt could see dark liquid seeping out of the thick bandages on his wrists.

Wirt looked away from the memory and saw that Dipper was facing towards the right. Dipper’s photograph was in color and larger. It was him and Mabel when they were much younger, sitting on an airplane with bowls of soup in their laps.

“I-I don’t understand,” Dipper stammered out. “What’s going on?”

“At least we’re not getting buried alive.”

More pictures came with every step they took. They went from sweet, youthful images to horrific depictions of Dipper stabbing his sister over and over again while Bill gripped his neck and Wirt in his possessive state, leading hopeless children to their demise.

Suddenly their eyes were crossed out on the pictures and _DIE_ was written across them. Dipper didn’t know how to feel. At least the photos were gone and they had reached the end, he assumed.

A light gleamed overhead, shining upon two chairs with ropes attached to large balloons in front of them. _DIE_ was written on each of the balloons and Dipper grew infuriated.

“Bill, where are you? What the fuck is this?” He shouted out. He knew that the demon was there, watching them stumble through and probably laughing at them the entire time.

Bill came out of the darkness and stood in between the two chairs. He wasn’t laughing though. He looked just as angry.

Dipper refused to go down without a fight. He pounced on the demon and toppled over the chair in the process. Dipper was sure that he was going to win this battle and the war. He was not going to hang himself on a noose out of defeat. Bill was. That’s all he ever wanted.

Wirt ignored the two fighting beside him. He was memorized by the rope hanging ahead of him. His feet and hands were not his own suddenly. He was walking forward and grabbing the noose, standing on top of the chair and feeling the rope go around his neck. Wirt was terrified. If the Beast was there, then of course he would want for Wirt to kill himself. Maybe then he would relinquish all control of his body; just what the Beast had always wished for.

“Wirt!” Dipper yelled out. Dipper had Bill in a headlock. He pushed Wirt down from the chair and stood on it, putting the demon’s head through the noose instead. The pure look of hatred in Dipper’s eyes scared Wirt to the bones. He had somehow been broken out of his reverie.

Dipper tied the knot, kicked the chair, and stood back to watch Bill float in the air. Bill struggled, trying to get the rope off of his neck. He stopped suddenly. Dipper’s body went limp and it was a ghostly sight to see.

Bill’s laugh emitted in their ears until the sound of deafening. “Come on, you’re just gonna go and kill me like that? I was being nice for once. I gave Gnome Hat his tongue back and everything,” the demon said through his laughter. “Speaking of which, it’s an understatement to say that my accomplice is just a little upset with you, kid, giving your virginity and stuff away to Pine Tree. He wanted to do the honors and now he keeps raving on and on about how you need to be ‘purified.’” Wirt was taken aback. The Beast had been watching him and Dipper the entire time? He felt intruded. “Anyways, see you guys soon!”

At the blink of an eye, they were transported to another area. They were in the middle of the forest. A tall, dark structure that resembled a door was behind them and a mob of people dressed in mourning clothes was in front of them.

Dipper turned around and banged on the door. It wouldn’t budge. There was a large lock on the handle and at least twenty keys scattered in the dirt. Dipper looked back and saw that the mob was approaching them. “Looks like we’re about to have a bad time,” he muttered. He reached for a handful of keys anyway and started to jam them all into the lock. None of them seemed to work.

The mob scared Wirt to death, yes, but what was behind them frightened him even more. It was the stuff from nightmares. Nooses hung from the trees. Some of the trees uprooted from the ground and were slowly approaching them by balancing on their roots; their faces twisted and turned in declarations of the worst agony.

One of the rioters managed to catch Wirt in his reverie. They pushed him to the ground and held a knife just above his face. They managed to get a cut right across the bridge of his nose before the attacker was thrown off of him and back into the crowd.

Dipper only looked up in surprise briefly before he returned back to messing with the keys.

“You guys are really hopeless, aren’t ya?” Mabel’s voice said overhead of them.

“Mabel?” Dipper yelled out.

“Yeah, I’m here, but I’m not here at the same time. You guys gotta go back to the place you were before because wherever you are is kinda off limits. Oh, and hurry up Dip-Dip with those keys, we sorta have a time restraint here.”

“I kinda figured that out myself, Mabel, thanks.” Dipper was happy to hear his sister’s voice though. He only had four or so more keys left. It would totally be like Bill to just give them a bunch of false keys though.

Wirt managed to push some weaponless people away, but a tall man with a gun was coming towards him, and he had no way to escape from bullets. Wirt stood in front of Dipper. If one of them were to be inevitably shot, it had to be Wirt. Dipper had to return to his sister and the rest of his family. Wirt had nothing.

Right when the man’s finger was about to pull the trigger, Wirt’s dues ex machina came: a deer named Hollywood.

The deer stood in front of the both of them and took the bullet in its side before it kicked the man down. Wirt scrambled to pick up the fallen gun and then rushed over to the deer. Its eyes looked creamier than usual and it made Wirt give a weepy sigh. How could he see so noble a creature destroyed by misery without feeling the most poignant grief?

“I got it open!” Dipper yelled. The door was open and the deer was just bleeding, bleeding, bleeding on the ground. Wirt rushed to the deer’s back and pushed it inside of the door. Dipper looked confused by his actions, but left the door open wide enough for both Wirt and the deer to return back to safety.

Wirt held his hands to the wound in the deer’s side, but he knew it wasn’t going to help much. He could feel the animal’s warm blood just seeping through his fingers and getting on his sleeves.

“Hey guys,” Mabel said. She looked down at the scene sadly. Dipper saw that she had taken his body down from the ropes.

“I hope I didn’t damage my body too much,” Dipper murmured. He rubbed Wirt’s shoulders before he stepped away from him. He couldn’t be around all of this grief – it wasn’t good for his poor, susceptible soul.

Mabel shook her head. “And I put your tongue back. So, here,” she lowered his body down to him. “Welcome back to the human world.”

Dipper felt an unexplainable joy at the feeling of returning to his body. There was a horrible ache in all of his joints and his neck had rope burns, but it was still good to be back. He wanted to just pass out for a week, but he still had unfinished business to take care of.

“What about you, Mabes? Where’s your body?” Mabel smiled widely.

“It’s just outside these doors. Bill and the Beast are right outside too. It’s crazy out there, but I got it all together, see.” She pulled out two knives from her robes. The handles had cherubs attached to them. One was black and the other was white. Mabel handed Dipper the black one and Wirt stood up to receive the white one. “You guys have no clue how long it took me to get these.” She gestured toward the other side of the room, where the exit must have been located. Wirt left one last longing look on the dead deer before he forced himself to move on.

“I can’t wait for this backstory.”

“And I can’t wait to tell it.” Mabel laughed, but Dipper recognized it as a nervous sound. “You may be wondering right now: whoa, where are we? Well, you’re in Gravity Falls. Yup, that’s right. Bill took over with the Beast. He altered the timeline after my first funeral so that you guys would think that you’re living different lives or something. After you guys did the thing, the Beast got mad and wanted to kill the both of you, but once again Mabel saves the day!

“Anyways, about the knives: when a deal is made, especially between two supernatural beings – i.e. demons – there’s always a setback. The Beast and Bill made a deal sometime in the eighties and it overseen by this demon in Mexico named Señora de la Santa Muerte. She’s this really cool, really powerful skeleton lady. And I kind of resemble her because Bill put a variation of her curse on me. So, their deal was that they would take over the world slowly; starting with the Falls and then the Unknown would be used to watch over the dead. The setback was that to cut the deal at any time, they would just have to use these knives. And to make sure that no one could just take these knives and stab them all willy-nilly, they created an incubus, Old Scratch I think he's called, and whenever he's summoned the knives are activated.

“I went down to Mexico and it just so happened that Soos and his girlfriend were there for a wedding, and I got him to translate the deal for me. If an outsider manages to stab the both of them with these knives, then not only will the deal be called off, but the Beast will cease to exist again and Bill will be banished immediately.”

Dipper looked down at his knife. He was loving the concept already. The exit was ahead of them, a beam of white light.

Mabel looked down on them. “Ready to exorcise some demons?” She asked. Dipper nodded. Wirt was not ready.

⁂

The Falls was covered with an even darker haze. Dipper thought that it suited the mood. The citizens were in a circle around them, holding hands with candles surrounding them. The people didn’t seem to be hostile this time. Dipper, Mabel, and Wirt just moved past them and towards Bill.

Bill increased in size. It didn’t matter. Bill could’ve been the size of the Empire State Building and Dipper wouldn’t care. Bill laughed, as if it was intimidating, and focused his eye on the twins and Wirt. “Think you can defeat me again? I’m more than a monster, kids, I’m a fucking god. I call the shots around here.”

“Nice to meet you, God,” Dipper said. Mabel had returned to her own body and was standing beside him, ready. “You can call me the goddamn pilot, and I say when we’re gonna take off.” They charged after them.

“You guys should just give up while you’re at it! I’m the one whose got the power now.” The ground rumbled and rose from underneath their feet. Dipper just held on to the severed piece of earth. It was approaching Bill’s reddening eye.

“Have you ever heard of having the power to let power go?” Dipper would love to spit more corny quotes back and forth with the demon, but now was the time to vanquish him more than ever.

“Wait, I forgot something!” Mabel screamed. She leapt down from the upturned earth. Thankfully, she didn’t have to do much of a jump. She ran down to the circle of people. “We gotta invite an old friend in order to activate the knives.”

She took a vial of salt from her pocket and began to run around the group, forming the design of a pentagram. Wirt didn’t know what the watch: Mabel reciting something in Latin and summoning a completely black, one-eyed entity, or Dipper managing to dodge everything that Bill was throwing at him. He felt as if he had received a blessing to see the Pines twins in their element. Saving the day must have been a normal thing to them by now.

Wirt felt a cool breeze on his neck. He could already feel himself beginning to shake as he turned around. Now it was his turn. “Hello, lover boy,” the Beast greeted. “Have you been sleeping well lately? I would think that it would difficult to do so with all of the sins crawling down your back.”

“You’re only mad because I had sex with Dipper,” Wirt breathed out. He slowly approached the demon. His eyes shone a soulful shade of blue. He must have truly felt sad over the ordeal.

“Oh, look at you, using your deductive reasoning skills.” The Beast closed the space in between them. Fingers were plunged into Wirt’s mouth, but he immediately spat out the sap, knowing its effects. He raised the knife up, intending to stab it into the Beast’s back, but he could feel the possession process taking over. “I guess you could say that if I had a heart, it would be broken at the moment.” Wirt was forced to take his hat off and replaced it with a crown of thorns and leaves. “Take this as a sign of humiliation. And now to finish the display.”

Wirt was forced to pull his sleeves up and drag the knife across his own arms. The pain was brutal, but the memory was worse. He was taken back to his seventeenth birthday. He didn’t want to kill himself helplessly at the hands of a demon.

So, filled with sudden determination, Wirt fought back.

The Beast was powerful, yes, but this was Wirt’s body. And Wirt knew what to do. The demon had trapped himself in a physical vessel, and if Wirt defeated the body, then he would defeat the Beast also. Looks like Wirt was going to kill himself after all.

He gathered enough strength to lift the knife up and plunge it into his own chest. The Beast shrieked a terrible sound. He collapsed to his knees as he felt his lifeblood pouring out. This was it.

This really was it. Mabel had summoned Old Scratch to activate the knives. Both of the knives glowed with a white aura. Wirt could feel the demon leaving his body once and for all, but he also felt strange. Of course he knew that the feeling of death would be strange, but not like this. It felt like it took all of his strength and energy just to keep his eyes open, and going to sleep seemed like the best option right now, but he forced himself to stay awake just to see the aftermath of all the damage that the Pines twins were dishing.

Dipper had made it to Bill right when the knives activated and managed to plunge it into the demon’s eye before he was blown back by a powerful gust of wind.

“NO. NO. NO.” The skies rumbled as Bill threw a temper tantrum. “You can’t kill me, you can’t! I’m a being of pure energy with no weaknesses. I’m the best fucking demon to ever exist, handcrafted by Lucifer himself.”

Mabel hurried to where Dipper was recovering on the cement. They both watched Bill’s demise. The bricks that formed his body began to crumble. He twitched, shuddered, and roared, but couldn’t seem to stop the process.

“I’ll come back! You know I’ll come back!” A whirlwind of galaxies opened behind the demon. “When you’re ready to put up a real fight, you know who to call! I’ll be waiting.” Bill – and the shambling pieces of him – flew into the portal. As it closed up behind him, the haze covering the town faded away. Old Scratch vanished also. Dipper wondered if the incubus would ever return to his dreams again.

“We did it,” Dipper panted out. Mabel cheered and helped him up. Someone was missing. “Where’s Wirt?”

“I don’t know. Wasn’t he still by the people?” Mabel helped Dipper to the dispersing, confused group. Wirt was lying in a bloodied heap on the ground.

“No, no, no,” Dipper muttered. He dropped down to his knees in front of Wirt. He couldn’t actually be dead. There had to be some kind of loophole. He carefully turned Wirt around. The knife was jaunting from his chest, right where his heart was.

Mabel sadly came from behind Dipper. “I looked for his body, but I couldn’t find anything. I don’t think he actually died.”

“So you’re saying that he’s dead, right now.” Dipper didn’t want to believe it. It had to be reversible. He shot back up to his feet at that thought. Ignoring the splitting pain in his arms and legs, Dipper went off towards the forest.

“What’cha doing, Dipper?” Mabel called out after him.

“Going back to the Unknown. He has to be there.”


	15. Molasses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m ready,” was all Dipper said before he hung up the phone. Now was the time to bury his demons once and for all. If Wirt could do it, so could he.

Dipper was nearing the point of exhaustion when he reached Eternal Garden Cemetery. His grave was still there along with the flowers and Virgin Mary busts. Wirt was sitting next to the headstone with someone else in a blue topcoat. Dipper could see that Mabel was equally as confused to see Wirt sitting down and speaking with the Conductor as if they were old friends. They approached the men slowly, but they heard the twins coming and stood up. Both of their eyes were red with tears, but the Conductor was smiling through his sadness.

“Dipper, Mabel,” Wirt placed his hand on the Conductor’s shoulder. “This is Greg,” he introduced.

It was understatement to say that Mabel was excited. “I had a feeling that was him! When I was looking for a body, I found out that you had a younger brother, and I looked for him too, but…” Mabel’s excitement died down as she trailed off.

“But what?” Dipper prompted.

“But I found out that he died last month.” Wirt nodded and wiped his eyes.

“Greg’s bringing me back to life,” Wirt announced. “He made a deal before he died that he would conduct the train in exchange of giving me life if I were ever to ride it.” Tears welled up in Wirt’s eyes again. Greg took his brother in his arms and enveloped him in a tight embrace.

“Oh, don’t cry now, trooper. Now’s the time to march on.”

“You’re still as weird as ever,” Wirt chuckled. He moved away to wipe his tears with his sleeves. “And you look better in than jacket that I ever did.”

“I found your old hat too. I hung it up in my room. You should go back home and take it sometime in case you feel like going on another Halloween adventure.” Greg touched Wirt’s cheek, and he already began to look livelier. The rosiness in his cheeks returned. Dipper wondered if Greg had that same pink tint. It just had to be a hereditary trait. Greg hugged Wirt again. “I should go now. The tracks are a-calling me back to duty. You can stop by on the train anytime now that the Beast’s gone.” Greg waved to Mabel and Dipper. “Bye guys!” He walked toward the forest, humming a familiar tune. They watched after him until he faded into the darkness of the Unknown.

“You know what I think it’s time for?” Mabel asked. Dipper saw it coming and tried to move out the way, but Mabel already had the two by the shoulders. “A group hug!” She squeezed the living daylights out of them until Dipper’s body hurt even more, but Wirt needed a hug right then. “Guys, what do you think the future holds now?” The trio looked at each other.

A heavy weight had been lifted off of Wirt’s shoulders that day. The Beast was gone and Greg had brought him back to life. All Wirt knew was that he officially loved deals now. “I don’t know,” he honestly answered. He looked at Dipper. What did the future hold for them?

“Me too,” Dipper shrugged. He was leaning all of his weight on Mabel. “I hope it holds a nap sometime soon – preferably now.” Mabel only laughed. Wirt wiped his eyes again and took up the other side of Dipper.

“Let’s go back to the Falls and get you a nice shower and then you can take a nap for the rest of the week. I’ll call up Grunkle Stan and Ford and tell them that the evil has been defeated. Ford is gonna have a heart attack when he hears what we did! I can’t wait for that.”

“Me neither,” Dipper sleepily mumbled.

⁂

_Mabel handed Dipper his prescription ring. It was Tuesday and the spaces for Saturday through Monday were still filled. Mabel was upset that Dipper had been slacking off with his medication, but he felt better now. He could sleep more easily and was getting more and more sweet dreams by the night._

_“You think that we’re ever gonna defeat him?” Dipper asked. He took the medication he missed with a mouthful of water as Mabel stood there in thought. They didn’t even need to name him in order to know who they were talking about._

_“I dunno.” Mabel absentmindedly drew a triangle in the fog of the medicine cabinet mirror. “He just keeps backing back. Why can’t he be like the chicken pox and be here once and rarely ever show up again?” Dipper flipped off the drawing in the mirror before he wiped it away. “Real mature, Dip-Dip.”_

_“He can’t ever hurt you again.”_

_“Hey, we saved each other before and we’ll do again.”_

_“Yeah, we’ve literally been to Hell and back and went through life and death together, but what if we aren’t fast enough? What if we trip up and one of us is gone forever?”_

_“It’s obvious that you’re still not over him, and it’s understandable, because this guy has got us fucked up since our childhood, but I’m ready when you are, little brother.”_

_Dipper turned off the lights to the bathroom and walked out with a huff. “Don’t call me that.”_

_“But it’s true. You’re my little brother.”_

_“By like a few seconds.”_

_“Every second counts, like you said.”_

⁂

Dipper knew that his dream was a sign. A long time had passed and his life returned to its usual irregular rhythm. His family loved Wirt and accepted him with open arms. They were visiting the Shack for the summer as per tradition. Mabel had decided to give the two privacy by sleeping downstairs. They were expecting Soos and Wendy to show up in a couple of days to have a nice reunion and to formally introduce them to Wirt. Dipper knew that Wendy’s mind was going to be blown when he tells her about all the shit that he went through with Wirt.

Wirt was soundly asleep beside him now, tangled in his arms. Dipper touched the silver ring on Wirt’s hand carefully. The metal was warm from the other’s body heat. Dipper kissed his forehead before he moved out of bed. Nothing could rouse Wirt out of a deep sleep. There was a storm brewing outside, and Dipper found himself drifting in and out of slumber from the thunder and lightning, but Wirt was fine.

Dipper moved the rotary phone from the plant invested apartment to the Shack. It still said there could only be one call used on it and each button on the dial did not present a number, but various pictographs of symbols that only Dipper understood.

He dialed on the telephone, selecting the pictures in an order that felt right. The phone picked up on the other end. There was no greeting, but Dipper knew that the other was listening.

“I’m ready,” was all Dipper said before he hung up the phone. Now was the time to bury his demons once and for all. If Wirt could do it, so could he.

Once again, they were going to have an eventual summer in Gravity Falls.


End file.
